#you can’t blame us for your wrongdoings
Text
The Other Mountain - ao3 - Chapter 24
Pairing: Lan Qiren/Wen Ruohan
Warning Tags on Ao3
———————————————————————-
Not even having to explain to Yu Ziyuan why they had ruined the Jiang sect’s event for a second time running could put a dent in Wen Ruohan’s good mood.
“You can’t really blame us for it,” he told her, wondering with amusement if he should mention that the sound of her teeth grinding in irritation was becoming almost audible. “We came here at your invitation to enjoy your sect’s little party and then were unexpectedly set upon by murderous assassins…assassins, let me remind you, that somehow managed to defy your sect’s security precautions, borrow your disciples’ clothing, and then attack your guests, when by all the rules of hospitality we ought to be under your protection. If the party also happened to be ruined as a result, well, that’s really nothing to do with us. In fact, we’re quite upset by it all.”
“Really,” Yu Ziyuan growled. “If that’s the case, then why – are – you – smiling?!”
That was mostly because Wen Ruohan couldn’t help it.
Lan Qiren was in love with him. Lan Qiren loved him. Lan Qiren was willing to trust him. Lan Qiren loved him!
That wasn’t anyone else’s business, though.
“Just trying to put a good face on it for the sake of your sect,” Wen Ruohan said, voice almost syrupy with how condescending he was being. “After messing up not one but two gatherings in front of the whole cultivation world, you practically have no face left at all…really, a smile or two is the least we can do for the sake of our good friends in Yunmeng Jiang.”
Yu Ziyuan’s eye was twitching. So was the finger upon which she wore Zidian, which hadn’t quite started crackling but had started emitting an almost subsonic hum of spiritual energy as if it was considering it.
Hmm. Perhaps he was overdoing it a little.
Not that Wen Ruohan cared.
Still, in the interest of not starting yet another fight that he was presently in no condition to win…
“At any rate, as you can see,” he added smugly, unable to feel any genuine caution when his heart was full of repeated refrains of I am loved, I am loved, “my husband has taken today’s events to heart.”
He nodded over at where Lan Qiren was sitting, still cleaning his sword and glaring balefully at everyone around him as if he suspected them of wrongdoing, having apparently decided to appoint himself as the paranoid one for the day.
If Lan Qiren were anyone else, Wen Ruohan would say that it was a beautiful display of subtle intimidation. The almost pristine glow of Lan Qiren’s almost entirely white outfit, marred only by the almost artful flecks of drying blood that highlighted the subtle red suns at the hems, acted as vivid contrast to the gory imagery of the bloody and at times incomplete bodies the Jiang sect disciples were still carrying out on mats from the room behind him, while the steady and sure motion of his hands drew the eye to focus on his sword, the one that had slain most of those people – an unspoken but extremely clear threat.
Of course, since this was Lan Qiren, he probably hadn’t thought about that at all.
Lan Qiren was a very good politician, when he put his mind to it – but he often forgot to put his mind to it. In fact, if Wen Ruohan had to bet, he’d say that Lan Qiren was probably currently thinking about some obscure Lan sect rule about cleaning your sword as soon as possible to avoid rust, about how it was valuable and taught all sorts of larger lessons and so on and so forth. Also, he’d probably want a bath as soon as possible, quite understandably, and certainly at a minimum by the time they got back to the Nightless City. He could just change clothing to get rid of the bloodstains, of course, but there was that general rule on changing clothing after bathing, and Wen Ruohan knew that Lan Qiren, with his fondness for routine, would prefer to do things in the proper order whenever possible.
(Lan Qiren, who loved him. Who was in love with him. Who would probably make that part of his routine as well, an everyday reminder that he belonged, body and soul, to Wen Ruohan…)
Lan Qiren was insisting on their leaving at once, which was quite reasonable under the circumstances. Wen Ruohan certainly wasn’t objecting. His sect’s disciples, who had rushed over as soon as he’d been able to properly signal them, had managed to keep a few of the assassins alive, including the one Lan Qiren had purposefully preserved. They had all been taken away to be interrogated – with the Fire Palace for once serving in its traditional capacity as a prison rather than Wen Ruohan’s personal playground – and answers would be forthcoming. Wen Ruohan had made that extremely clear to all of the assembled sect leaders.
Wen Ruohan had also made a number of very ominous statements about the vengeance he was imminently going to undertake as soon as he found out who was responsible for sending the assassins. Moreover, he had made clear that, as the victim of a dishonorable attack, he fully expected the cultivation world to back him in seeking reprisals, no matter what penalty he demanded – or else.
His announcement had spread a great deal of consternation throughout the crowd, all of whom were already somewhat keyed up due to the last near-war they’d been drawn into. It had caused any number of people to consider departing early as well, each to go back home to think over what to do next in peace rather than stay any longer in the Lotus Pier. Presumably it was those impending departures that had caused Yu Ziyuan to march up and pull Wen Ruohan aside for a quiet confrontation, with all of the seething, barely-concealed rage that had made her old Purple Spider moniker quite so famous visible on her face.
Again: not that Wen Ruohan cared.
Oddly enough, though, it seemed that something he’d said had soothed Yu Ziyuan’s fiery temper, or at least distracted her from it. Zidian was no longer making that irritating humming noise and her fingers no longer shook as if they were on the verge of being clenched into a fist; she was practically verging on normal.
Well, normal rage.
“Sect Leader Wen is very open-minded,” she said, very begrudgingly.
Wen Ruohan looked at Yu Ziyuan with some suspicion. Was she referring to the fact that he wasn’t blaming the Jiang sect for the assassination attempt? He’d wanted to, even though he was fairly certain they had nothing to do with it. Even if they hadn’t hired the assassins, it had been their negligence that had allowed the attack to occur at all, which meant that they ought to carry some share of the blame, and therefore some of the responsibility of making it up to him…but Lan Qiren had objected.
He’d said something about not sowing discord, or maybe about being easy on others. Wen Ruohan thought it was more likely that he just felt belatedly bad about having accidentally incited Cangse Sanren into stealing away the Jiang sect children at the same time she’d taken his nephews.
(They hadn’t told anyone that Cangse Sanren had brought them to the Nightless City, or indeed that Cangse Sanren and her family were currently residing with them rather than traveling the cultivation world. It seemed unwise to officially confirm it, lest they attract unwanted attention.)
“I will still be expecting Yunmeng Jiang’s support against the perpetrators, of course,” he clarified, but unexpectedly Yu Ziyuan waved her hand dismissively.
“Naturally you will have it,” she said coolly. “Whoever planned the attempt on your life, Sect Leader Wen, deliberately chose to use our Jiang sect as its scapegoat. In order to restore our good name, we must of course take every measure necessary to seek vengeance. That was not what I meant.”
“What, then?”
Very uncharacteristically, Yu Ziyuan hesitated for a while before answering. Just as Wen Ruohan was about to lose patience, she finally spoke, saying, “I meant…in the matter of your marriage.”
Wen Ruohan arched his eyebrows. What about his marriage? He’d made an excellent marriage. He’d known it from the start, and now the rest of the cultivation world was starting to realize it, too. And they hadn’t even figured out the bit about the classes yet!
None of that seemed to him to fit the criteria of rendering him “open-minded,” though. So what was Yu Ziyuan talking about?
Yu Ziyuan seemed to realize that she’d lost him, a frown appearing on her face as she watched the confusion on his.
“Do you really not mind?” she asked. “You are the stronger party, politically and personally, and you’re both men, not restrained by convention – shouldn’t Lan Qiren be the one calling you husband, rather than the other way around?”
Oh, so it was that again.
Ridiculous. Hadn’t they already covered that?
“My husband,” Wen Ruohan said, emphasizing the word mostly for the amusement it gave him to see the way it made her frown deepen, “is an innate conservative. He’s very fixed in his habits, and averse to change. Having been raised with the expectation that he would one day become a husband, it pleases him to be one, and it pleases me to see him pleased. What more does there need to be than that?”
“It cannot be that simple.”
“Why not? As you said, we’re not restrained by convention.” He smirked, deciding to needle her further. “Isn’t that part of your Jiang sect’s motto? Isn’t it ‘Make it work’?”
Her eye twitched again. “Attempt the impossible.”
“Isn’t that what I said? Make it work despite it being impossible.”
Yu Ziyuan scowled at him. “A mountain cannot contain two tigers,” she said testily. “A household cannot have two husbands. If he is the husband, then you are the wife, Sect Leader Wen. You cannot possibly be satisfied with the expectation that you are to submit to him, to abide by etiquette and decorum for him, to restrict your own activities for his sake…!”
“Does the sun care for the expectations of the earth?” Wen Ruohan asked carelessly. Lan Qiren had never demanded his submission in anything, except in bed – and even there, it was only ever something that added to Wen Ruohan’s pleasure, never something that had turned into an expectation or an insult. Lan Qiren had never once thought that what they did in bed meant anything about how they conducted their life outside it, as some men might have. On the contrary, when they were in public, it was Lan Qiren who sought wherever possible to abide strictly by etiquette, and part of that etiquette was supporting Wen Ruohan’s sect as the sect he’d married into, which in turn by default meant supporting Wen Ruohan himself as sect leader. “I have never restricted myself for the sake of others. I hardly plan to start now.”
“Really. Then does that mean, Sect Leader Wen, that you plan to take on the duties of a wife as well?” she asked scathingly.
“Actually, Qiren seems to have gotten it into his head that it is the duty of a husband to do the satisfying,” Wen Ruohan said dryly. “A Gusu Lan peculiarity, I expect. I wasn’t planning on disabusing him of the notion.”
Yu Ziyuan turned red. “That’s not what I meant!”
Wen Ruohan scoffed. “Then what do you mean? Do you expect me to manage my household like some commoner? I manage my sect, that’s close enough.”
“It is exceptionally different.”
“Perhaps for you,” Wen Ruohan said condescendingly. “Allow me to remind you that I am sect leader. I am free to implement my will as I wish – however I wish – and you have not identified one good reason why I cannot deviate from tradition.”
“At least you know you are deviating from tradition,” she snapped.
Wen Ruohan just barely restrained himself from saying something sarcastic like And of course your marriage is such a model of happy compliance with tradition, mostly since he was pretty sure she really would try to kill him if he did.
From the look on her face, he’d managed to convey the message anyway.
“If it matters to you, then it matters to you,” he said indifferently instead. “It certainly doesn’t to me.”
Yu Ziyuan’s expression somehow worsened, which he hadn’t thought was possible.
“We’ll be leaving now,” he said smoothly, deciding that it would be impolitic to drive his hostess into apoplexy. Not to mention that it would be such a shame to rob himself of the moral high ground right after a perfectly good assassination attempt had given it to him. “Qiren wants to fly back to the Nightless City to avoid any threat of ambush, and we must leave early if we are to arrive before the end of xu shi, which of course we must. You know how Gusu Lan is.”
Everyone knew how Gusu Lan was.
(If Wen Ruohan was ever to seek to invade the Cloud Recesses, he would be wise to launch his attack in the evening, right when their internal clocks would be urging them to rest instead of fight. Not that he would, of course – he couldn’t even imagine Lan Qiren’s reaction if he did, not even if it was forced upon him by Qingheng-jun’s actions. It was only something he’d considered before, in the abstract hypothetical…)
“Have a good journey,” Yu Ziyuan said. She was gritting her teeth again.
Wen Ruohan smirked and took his leave.
And then he took Lan Qiren, who was very relieved to hear that they were finally departing, and went home.
Wen Ruohan spent the entire flight back to the Nightless City, painfully long and boring as it was, feeling lighter than air.
Sure, there were still problems to be dealt with, not least of which was figuring out who had tried to have him killed – not just killed, but drowned, and at a party surrounded by the rest of the cultivation world, no less. Whoever it was had figured out that Wen Ruohan had used up all of his spiritual energy, that he was temporarily vulnerable, and they were undoubtedly already thinking through the next step in their plan, knowing that they only had a brief window in which to act before Wen Ruohan regained his invincibility.
Really, his paranoia ought to be going completely haywire, questioning everyone and everything, trying to figure out who was behind it – given that it couldn’t be Qingheng-jun, who was too newly out of seclusion to have the resources necessary to train up assassins unless there was something very significant Lan Qiren had left out of his descriptions of the Lan sect – and his political instincts ought to be focused on how all of these developments would impact the balance of power in the cultivation world and how to turn them in his sect’s favor. Even considering it purely from the standpoint of cultivation, he ought to be worrying about how weak he still was, how tired he was, how much the fight and even this journey home was taking out of him.
Instead, Wen Ruohan couldn’t stop smiling.
(Interestingly enough, it turned out that genuine smiles while issuing threats only made people even more inclined to worry – exceeding even their reaction to an intimidating smirk or ominous scowl. Who knew?)
But in his defense: Lan Qiren was in love with him.
There was always that.
There was always going to be that, because Lan Qiren was a Lan, a good Lan, in the classic model of his sect. When he gave his heart away, he did so irrevocably. Even if things were to shatter between them, the way things had gone somehow wrong between Wen Ruohan and Lao Nie, or the way they had with his first wife, with his brother, with his family – even if Wen Ruohan did something utterly beyond the pale, utterly unforgivable, the fact that Lan Qiren loved him wouldn’t change.
Of course, if he did something like that, Lan Qiren would make his life absolutely miserable, up to and including leaving him in the dirt, and that probably after yelling at him until he went deaf. Lan Qiren had been quite emphatically clear about his intentions in that regard, repeating himself several times, though Wen Ruohan privately thought that it was all a little unnecessary.
It wasn’t as if he didn’t already know.
He’d figured it out after the fiasco with the Fire Palace: the price of Lan Qiren’s continued good regard was nothing more or less than his own good conduct, persistent and maintained.
Once, that would have been infuriating.
Wen Ruohan had always been his own person. He had always gone his own way, done things in his own style, bowed to no one – his Wen sect’s symbol was the sun, and he as their sect leader was the sun in splendor, directly overhead and shining in full midday glory. Even among his brothers he had always been the most stubborn, the most bull-headed, whether in his insistence on learning the sneered-upon “support skill” of arrays to the point of mastery instead of focusing on the sword or his slow but persistent approach to becoming sect leader, which had been successful in the end. He had never yielded to anyone, whether through force or coaxing. He had never adjusted his behavior for someone else’s sake.
But now…
Well.
After a lifetime of betrayals, his own or others’, Wen Ruohan was willing to consider it an equal trade.
Love for love, that was easy. Trust for trust would be more difficult, but he was the best of the best: he was Wen Ruohan. He wasn’t afraid of a challenge.
And it wasn’t as if he was going to find someone else he wanted more. Who could be more fascinating or full of ridiculous contradictions than Lan Qiren – a rigid moralist who had nevertheless demonstrated his sincerity through slaughter? That had always been a surefire way to Wen Ruohan’s heart, though not a route he’d previously believed Lan Qiren likely to take. It had always been more along the lines of what he’d gotten out of his relationship with Lao Nie, both of them vigorous and blood-thirsty and suiting each other perfectly – or at least, they had before the other man had grown distant and disdainful…
Well, never mind about that.
Wen Ruohan had Lan Qiren now, and if he played his cards right, he would have him forever.
That was surely something worth smiling about.
He continued smiling even when they arrived, frightening his servants. Lan Qiren didn’t notice, but then he was practically falling asleep standing up. Whether that was because of the energy expenditure of having to fly such a distance immediately after a vicious fight and emotional upheaval or simply that it had gotten late enough for all good proper Lan disciples to go to bed, it was impossible to tell.
“Do you require my services tonight?” Lan Qiren blearily asked Wen Ruohan, who snorted involuntarily in amusement at his serious expression.
“I think not,” he said dryly. “Look at you, you’re already yawning. I doubt you’d be able to, ah, rise to the occasion.”
Lan Qiren frowned censoriously at him. “Even if I cannot, I can still do my duty, if that’s what you desire.”
Wen Ruohan did desire, as it happened – he had a great deal of appreciation for Lan Qiren’s hands and tongue, both of which had become exceptionally skilled through the application of consistent practice – but he still said, “No need. You can make it up to me with interest tomorrow.”
It was an interesting novelty to deny himself for another’s sake. He’d observed that Lan Qiren, lacking as he did an internal instinct towards desire, at times also lacked a good sense of judgment as to when it was appropriate to offer to have sex, although tragically he’d picked up enough etiquette to be resistant to frolicking in public where people could see. It therefore fell to Wen Ruohan to bear the responsibility of being the final arbiter of such things, to ensure that Lan Qiren would be in a position to enjoy himself as well as providing enjoyment for his partner.
With a final yawn, Lan Qiren nodded and went off to find his bed, not bothering to wait for Wen Ruohan to join him. Presumably he’d figured out that Wen Ruohan was too full of nervous energy to rest, meaning that tonight was going to be one of his occasional bouts of insomnia.
Normally, on nights like these, Wen Ruohan would stalk through the halls of the Nightless City like a wandering ghost before eventually finding himself drawn to the Fire Palace and its screams, its reminder that he was alive, but that was unnecessary tonight. Tonight he already felt wholly alive, completely vibrant. In fact, that was the issue: he felt full of energy, like he wanted to do something. And not just anything, but something productive – to set up an experiment in arrays, perhaps, or practice sparring with the sword against some worthy opponent, or even…
Even…
Wen Ruohan smiled.
Cangse Sanren found him the next day.
“It’s already noon, you know,” she announced, having entered the room without knocking. “Also, my husband was the one who actually found you here, but he decided to nominate me to be the one to interrupt you. I’m less killable than he is.”
“Is that the case?” Wen Ruohan asked, not looking up from what he was doing. “And here I thought all you celestial mountain disciples were doomed.”
“We are. There’s some big scary beast marching towards my future, coming to tear me limb from limb; it’s inevitable, as sure as the dawn, but that also means there’s no point in worrying about it now. But putting that aside, people are more used to me being annoying, so they put up with it more.” She paused. “Are you painting? I didn’t know you knew how to paint.”
Wen Ruohan ignored her. He was almost done, so he wasn’t going to stop now just to talk.
“You’re a good painter,” she commented, peeking around his shoulder. “I had no idea. And I mean…you’re really good. Exceptionally good – ”
“You can stop sounding surprised about it at any point.”
“I’m just saying, I didn’t know you had hobbies other than torturing people.”
“This is not a hobby,” he clarified, finishing the final few strokes and putting down his brush. “This is an aberration. It’s a gift. For Qiren.”
“As if you would pick up a brush for anyone else,” she snorted, and inelegantly tried to shove him to the side so that she could get a better look at what he’d created. It didn’t work, of course, since he was stronger than she was, but he stepped aside anyway. “…huh. That’s…not what I expected. This is the first painting you’re going to give to him?”
Wen Ruohan shrugged. Other than his brief flirtation with portraiture, which had been an exclusively financial decision during a period of time when his backing within the Wen sect had been especially shaky, he’d always treated painting the way he did his cultivation: something to develop and nurture and even perfect, but not to force.
Back when he’d been alive, his favorite brother, Wen Ruoyu, had been Wen Ruohan’s primary target for these sorts of painting gifts. He’d had a fondness for collecting things, so he always accepted the gifts, but he’d found them confusing. You say this is meant for me? As in, you painted it specifically for me? he’d often asked, squinting at whatever the latest one was. What in the world do you mean by giving me this in particular? What’s the symbolism here stand for? What does it mean?
If I could have told you what it meant, I wouldn’t have needed to paint it, now would I? Wen Ruohan had always retorted. Tell me if you like it or not. If you don’t, I’ll take it back and give you another.
I like it, I like it! Don’t you dare take away things that are mine!
“Well, it’s not like I didn’t know you were several kinds of fucked up in the head,” Cangse Sanren remarked, interrupting Wen Ruohan’s wandering thoughts. “If there’s anyone who’d think that painting a war scene is a good gift for their lover, it would certainly be you. But lucky for you, Qiren’s taste in art runs towards the complicated, so I think he might like it anyway.”
Wen Ruohan had indeed painted a war scene, though he was mildly impressed that Cangse Sanren had been able to identify it as such. There were no people in it – it was mostly trees, and rocks, and blood, the occasional glint of broken steel and furrows dug deep. Hidden in the painting were the signs of cultivators at battle: splintered bark with smoldering anchor points, smeared ash and cinnabar left behind by burnt talismans, sharp and unnatural angles revealing cuts by sword or string.
Color had been used only sparingly, as an accent, and his brushwork was as brutal and ruthless as it had ever been, leaving the whole image with a gloomy and morbid air, grey, hopeless, and depressing.
He’d even painted it from the angle he’d once seen it from, with the trees reaching up into the heavens, tangled limbs suffocating the sky.
It was probably not an appropriate gift to give to one’s lover.
Wen Ruohan was going to give it to him anyway. Maybe he really would get lucky, and it would suit Lan Qiren’s tastes. Even if it didn’t, though, that would be fine – the point had always been in the making and the giving.
“Where is Qiren, anyway?” he asked.
“Meditating in your yard. He did sect business for a shichen in the morning, earlier on, once he realized you were busy, but as soon as he finished the urgent business, he told them all to come back tomorrow with the rest.”
“Good.” Wen Ruohan hadn’t been planning to do any business at all. Lazy days were what secretaries were for. “Next question: where are the children?”
Cangse Sanren arched her eyebrows. “Yours, mine, the Lan or the Jiang?”
“I meant Qiren’s nephews, as it happens. But you referred to mine – did you just mean Chao-er, or is Xu-er back?”
“Yes, he arrived yesterday morning, so there’s both of them here. He’s in his room, as are all the others. Do you want to see him?”
Oddly enough, even though he had no specific purpose in mind, Wen Ruohan found that he did.
“Father!” Wen Xu stood up quickly when Wen Ruohan strode into his rooms. So quickly, in fact, that he accidentally knocked all the papers off his desk and all over the floor. “I didn’t – I wasn’t expecting you.”
“I wanted to confirm that you were in one piece after what happened with the army in Jiujiang, Xu-er,” Wen Ruohan said mildly, doing his best not to smirk. Unfortunately for his son, Wen Ruoyu had also been a master of the “knock everything off the table so that they don’t see what I was looking at” dodge, and it hadn’t worked when he’d done it, either. “I am pleased to see that you are.”
“Uh, yeah,” Wen Xu said. He was blinking rapidly. “I…Teacher Lan said the same thing.”
Wen Ruohan arched his eyebrows. Lan Qiren moved quickly when he wanted to, it appeared – Wen Xu was already calling him “Teacher Lan” despite having undoubtedly met him all of maybe once. “Did he?”
Wen Xu looked embarrassed for whatever reason, so Wen Ruohan put his hands behind his back and gave his son an expectant look.
“He said you were proud of me for how I handled myself. Even though all I did was get sent away!” Wen Xu blurted out, then looked horrified at himself. Presumably at the gross sentimentality of what Lan Qiren had said, which was more than a little ridiculous – Wen Xu really hadn’t done anything of note, not unless one counted not complaining about being sent away and listening to the generals’ advice to avoid making the situation worse. And, well, not getting kidnapped and used as blackmail at any point while retreating.
Which Wen Ruohan supposed had been rather helpful.
Well, be your spouse’s partner and all that. If he wanted Lan Qiren to have a genuine shot at improving Wen Xu, it wouldn’t do to undercut his authority as a teacher before he’d even had a chance to get started.
“I am,” he said, and reasoned virtuously to himself that it wasn’t a lie even if he hadn’t given the subject a single thought before this exact moment – after all, he was always proud of his sons, who were his bloodline and therefore superior to all others. Anyway, even if it was, it wasn’t like the Wen sect abided by Do not tell lies. “You did well.”
Wen Xu looked stunned to the point of breathlessness.
Actually, he looked like he’d stopped breathing entirely.
Wen Ruohan decided that that was probably enough torment for a teenager for one day.
“You should write to your master in the army and advise him that I will be keeping you by my side for the near future,” he said, moving to practical matters instead. “If he wishes to continue your training, he should send someone here.”
Wen Xu recovered with admirable speed, straightening his spine and looking as dependable as he could at fifteen. “Yes, Father. I’ll do that at once!”
Wen Ruohan nodded. And then, because he could, he added, nodding at the pile of paper on the floor: “I’ll leave you to your romance novels, then.”
The horrified sound Wen Xu made was appalling.
Wen Ruohan walked off, chuckling to himself.
Continuing his inexplicable impulse from earlier, he decided to check in briefly on Wen Chao as well.
“Go away,” Wen Chao said, not looking up from where he was lying on his stomach reading something with a great deal of pictures and absolutely no substance. He wasn’t even trying to hide it.
“You do not command me, Chao-er.”
“Father!” Wen Chao jumped up at once. He didn’t make any effort to hide his picture-book – a heavily illustrated adventure, rather than a romance – and scurried over, looking delighted to see him, as usual. “Father, you’re here, you’re here!”
“Mm. Tell me what you have been up to.”
“I’ve been spending time with the other sect heirs, just like you told me to,” Wen Chao said proudly. “They’re very annoying, lots of trouble, but I can handle them. They’re no match for me!”
Wen Ruohan had no difficulty in discerning that this was extremely high praise for Wen Chao’s new friend group, potentially even gratitude and joy that they’d willingly included Wen Chao in their antics, and also that Wen Chao desperately wanted the present state to keep going forever.
“Good,” Wen Ruohan said. “Continue as you are. Become close to them and learn more about them, learn from their virtues and vices both. And listen when Teacher Lan tells you things meant to improve you. Make me proud.”
“Yes, Father! I will!”
That done, Wen Ruohan finally made his way down the hall to where his original targets, Lan Xichen and Lan Wangji, were being housed. He needed the two of them to do something for him.
After all, he owed Lan Qiren a debt, and it was time to deliver.
“Qiren,” he said, walking into their rooms later that afternoon. “I have something for you.”
He’d picked a good time: Lan Qiren was neither meditating nor playing his guqin, and neither was he composing – an activity that also involved a guqin, but a great deal more angry plucking, grumbling, and furious scribbling. Instead, he was only writing something down on scrap paper, though whatever the content of the note was, it was making him frown deeply, with a furrow between his brows that suggested that the subject was genuinely concerning to him.
“There you are,” Lan Qiren said, looking up. “I have something to say to you as well – ”
He paused, his expression suddenly clearing, discomfort making way for an expression of surprise, as well as something that seemed torn between pleasure and apprehension. “Did you say that you had something for me?”
“I did,” Wen Ruohan said agreeably. “Several things, in fact. Is what you have to say urgent?”
“Not at all,” Lan Qiren said bemusedly, rising to his feet and coming over. “It can wait, and indeed I would insist that it do so, given the alternative. What have you gotten me?”
Wen Ruohan produced two small booklets from inside his robes and handed them over.
Still looking somewhat wary, Lan Qiren accepted them, then opened the first one.
A moment later, he let out a surprised bark of laughter.
Wen Ruohan smirked triumphantly, watching the tension in Lan Qiren’s shoulders disappear. The man was too used to bad surprises, to everything that was unknown or a change being a bad thing – it was about time that he learned that some changes were good.
“I realize that my behavior was inappropriate, both in the specific situation and in general,” Lan Qiren read out loud. “When I am angry, I should withdraw from the situation and do what it takes to master my emotions, to better maintain my own discipline, before making any bad decisions. Under no circumstance should I take my mood out on other people, and especially not family. Additionally, I particularly recognize that I should always take the time to listen to you before making a final judgment. I have learned a valuable lesson from what I did, and I will not do it again – Wen Ruohan, did you get Xichen to write you an apology essay for me?”
“I got both your nephews to write me apology essays to give to you,” Wen Ruohan corrected him. “The second one is from Wangji.”
“Of course it is.” Lan Qiren’s shoulders were shaking with suppressed laughter again. “That’s - this is terrible. Your apologies keep getting worse and worse – and this one is unnecessary! I have already forgiven you.”
“This one isn’t an apology. It’s punishment.”
Lan Qiren’s eyebrows went up. “Oh?”
“You said the purpose of punishment is deterrence and remediation – that I need to take some loss in order to show my sincerity, to pay for the past and to make a deposit as assurance for good conduct in the future. A loss that means something to me, the way pain and time don’t.” Wen Ruohan reached out and cupped Lan Qiren’s cheek with his hand. “Something that can show you that I really have…how did he put it? That I ‘learned a valuable lesson from what I did, and will not do it again’.”
Lan Qiren leaned into his touch, smiling faintly. “And you think you have done that with this? What is your logic?”
Wen Ruohan found himself returning the smile. There it was, there was what he’d been looking for.
Lan Qiren was giving him the benefit of the doubt.
On the surface, it was patently ridiculous to think that convincing two boys to write essays could be a sufficient punishment, something that it could constitute a loss for someone of Wen Ruohan’s stature and power. Lao Nie would have thought he was joking, would have laughed along with a jest he wasn’t making, while his wives would have thought he was being sarcastic, that he was mocking them; they would have stormed out, maybe after throwing something at his head.
Lan Qiren just waited, certain that an explanation (of whatever quality) would be forthcoming.
“In our first visit to the Lotus Pier, I offered to help your nephews find you,” Wen Ruohan said, withdrawing his hand. “But not for free. I asked each of them to promise me a favor: one each.”
Lan Qiren frowned. “Unrestricted?”
“Your Xichen tried his best – he insisted on it being ‘nothing bad.’ But he’s young. He put no other restrictions on it, neither time, nor goal, nor extent…”
Lan Qiren winced. An open-ended favor like that, from a future sect leader, from a sect that did not make promises lightly, that did not break promises lightly, not even when they were extracted under duress…he knew exactly the sort of mischief Wen Ruohan could get up to with something like that. He’d seen it, even. In the ten years that the Lan sect was under his leadership, Lan Qiren would have been well aware that Wen Ruohan had twice utilized far more limited favors he was owed to devastating effect.
No, Lan Qiren well knew to be wary of such favors. He understood the gravity of such a thing – and just as he recalled it, that was when the understanding hit.
Wen Ruohan had the pleasure of seeing Lan Qiren genuinely shocked.
“You used those favors to get them to write these essays?” he exclaimed. “Surely not!”
Wen Ruohan smirked. “Is that sufficient loss for you?”
“More than sufficient! I would not have asked you to give up an advantage like that,” Lan Qiren said, frowning at him. “I might have sought to blunt the effects of the favors they had given, particularly in light of their age and immaturity, but a promise made is a promise made. Surely you know that – you are sect leader, and this is not a personal matter between us. Favors between sects is a matter of your sect, which is your first priority. I would not wish to abuse my position as your husband to interfere.”
“You might not wish to, but you might regardless,” Wen Ruohan said dryly, having figured out a little more of Lan sect cleverness with words by now. “And you might not, though I wish that you would.”
“What do you mean?”
“You are my husband,” Wen Ruohan said, as much for the pleasure of seeing Lan Qiren automatically smile at the reminder as to make the point. “That makes youhalf-master of my Wen sect in your own right…of our Wen sect. Our Wen sect is known for its arrogance, our superiority, our certainty that we deserve everything good in the world, and I would be very happy to see the same in you, Qiren.”
He shook his head.
“It is not abusing your position to want things, even things that are not necessarily to our Wen sect’s immediate benefit,” he said. “I want you to want things. I want you to ask for…no, I want you to demand everything that you want. I want you to learn to expect to receive what you ask for, rather than expecting to have to struggle to obtain it.”
Lan Qiren didn’t understand, Wen Ruohan could see that.
He found his voice softening. “You deserve the best, Qiren. You deserve to have the best given to you: without pain, without struggle, without effort, just for the asking. The world is your rightful due, and if you only ask for it, I would give it to you.”
“You are not using me as an excuse to take over the world,” Lan Qiren informed him primly, but there was something in his eyes that suggested that he had understood a little of what Wen Ruohan meant, even if he didn’t comprehend the fullness of it. At minimum, he’d understood that Wen Ruohan meant that he was family now – Wen Ruohan, who had always put his family over everyone, for good or for evil, with reason or without, following faithfully in the path laid out by Wen Mao in prizing their Wen clan over the whole world. Perhaps he even understood what Wen Ruohan was really saying: that he would now put him first, first before anything.
It might take some time before Lan Qiren could really bring himself to believe what Wen Ruohan told him, and even longer before he was willing to act with that glorious arrogance that Wen Ruohan so longed to see in him, that carelessness and freedom that accompanied true power. But at least he understood that that was something Wen Ruohan wanted to give to him.
A good change, rather than bad.
“This is my promise to you,” Wen Ruohan told him, nodding at the essays. “My loss, yes, my sect’s loss, also yes, but it is the loss I should take. It is my payment for not trusting you, as I should have, because not trusting you is a loss.”
Wen Ruohan was known for many things. He was blood-thirsty, a tyrant, a madman who delighted in torture; he was brilliant, a master of cultivation, ancient and terrifying. He was paranoid and cruel and selfish, and he put his ambitions above everything else.
He might be all those things, but Lan Qiren had chosen him anyway. The least he could do was choose him in return – to let Lan Qiren change him the way he wanted to change Lan Qiren. To trust him, yes, but also…to be worthy of his trust in return.
To be anything less –
Now that would be the real loss.
And, of course, Wen Ruohan did not lose.
Lan Qiren was staring at him open-mouthed.
“Do you understand?”
“…yes. I understand.”
Wen Ruohan kissed him. After a moment, he released him.
Lan Qiren still looked dazed. It was a good look on him.
“Now tell me,” Wen Ruohan teased. “Was that a good enough punishment?”
“If I were grading you, I would pass you with honors,” Lan Qiren said fervently.
Wen Ruohan laughed.
“Now, it is your turn to tell me,” Lan Qiren added, recovering a little. “Do I dare read what Wangji wrote…?”
“I genuinely have no idea,” Wen Ruohan said cheerfully. “He did it all in musical notation.”
“Oh no.”
“I like your second nephew. He’s clever.”
“Please refrain from getting any bright ideas. I am already working diligently on helping him recover his equilibrium; he does not need any further assistance in growing any more feral, and still less does he need to grow any more tyrannical than he already is.” Lan Qiren shook his head. “I will review the essays in full later, and I expect to be greatly amused by them, both immediately and for a great deal of time into the future. Thank you.”
“Of course. Would you like to see what else I have for you?”
Lan Qiren glanced at him sharply. “There’s more?”
“No need to sound so plaintive,” Wen Ruohan chuckled. “Do not do things in excess, or however the rule goes.That was all for the punishment. This one is an out-and-out gift – I painted something for you.”
“You painted…? Is that where you were all morning?”
“All night and all morning,” Wen Ruohan corrected. “It’s in my secondary study, if you’d like to come see it now. Or would you prefer to first discuss the subject that you mentioned earlier?”
Oddly enough, that caused the worried furrow to return to Lan Qiren’s brow, and he hesitated for a long moment before eventually saying, “Do not harbor doubts or jealousy, do not fail to carry out your promise. I think we had better discuss it now.”
That didn’t sound promising. Wen Ruohan tilted his head to the side. “Very well. What is it that you wanted to discuss, then?”
“It is about Lao Nie,” Lan Qiren said slowly. “I promised to myself that I would speak with you on the subject at the first instant I could. And yet, as time goes on, I find myself searching for further reasons to refrain for a little longer – which is misconduct on my part, although understandable. I have only just had you confirm that you returned my feelings, which has brought me tremendous joy. When one feels great joy, one seeks to preserve it…I suppose I wished to have you to myself for a little longer.”
“You do have me to yourself,” Wen Ruohan said, a little confused. “Lao Nie and I are not on the best of terms, as you yourself have seen. While it is true that we have never officially broken off our relationship, his recent actions and behavior make it clear enough that that will be the inevitable result, and sooner rather than later. He suspects me at every turn, disdains me, becomes angry at anything and everything I do – ”
“He had a qi deviation.”
Wen Ruohan stopped.
For a moment his mind rebelled, refusing to accept what his ears told him they had heard. “What?”
“He had a qi deviation, not long ago,” Lan Qiren said. His voice was solemn, serious, and Do not tell lies. He was telling the truth. “His son, Nie Mingjue, told me about it. You know what fate awaits the sect leaders of Qinghe Nie. You know how it looks, when it starts. You know what it does to them. How it makes them feel – ”
“Rage,” Wen Ruohan said, finding that his lips had started tingling, even if the rest of his face felt strangely numb. He did know. He’d seen Lao Nie’s father and grandfather suffer from the very same thing. “Disdain. Irrationality. Suspicion, paranoia…are you saying that you think his qi deviation is the genesis of his recent behavior?”
“I believe it is likely. You know how subtle qi deviations can be, particularly the small ones that the Nie sect initially suffer from – even if it was only discovered recently, it is likely that the deviation has been affecting him for months, perhaps even a year or two. From what I have observed of your disintegrating relationship, and based on your description of past events, his seeming distrust and your reaction to it…yes, it seems likely.”
Wen Ruohan…
Wen Ruohan didn’t know what to do with that information.
He didn’t want to believe Lan Qiren. He wanted to accuse him of lying, even though he knew he didn’t. He wanted to throw something, hit something, hurt something – he wanted to claim that this was all some sort of sick scheme, designed to strike him right when he was most vulnerable. But he’d promised to trust Lan Qiren, and he did trust him, and if there was one thing he knew, it was that Lan Qiren did not lie.
Lao Nie had had a qi deviation.
Lao Nie was dying.
Lao Nie – Lao Nie had come to Wen Ruohan when he’d been at his lowest point, when he’d been sick and tired of living, entertained by pain and nothing more. At that time, Wen Ruohan had been on the verge of considering entering the way of clarity, a path that cut off his feelings entirely as a means of avoiding the endless misery of having them mostly cut off already. He’d been searching for some method, any method, to stop the way he felt dead inside most of the time, dead and bored. Dead, and bored, and…and alone.
Lao Nie hadn’t let him be alone.
Lao Nie had brought to bear all the good cheer his considerable force of personality gave him, and he had aimed it at him. Lao Nie had laughed at him, had teased him, had all but demanded a place in his bed, and Wen Ruohan had found him amusing. It hadn’t been anything more than that at the start of it. He’d been glad that it’d been nothing more than that – he’d thought at the time that he didn’t want any more connections to the world to tie him down, to hold him back. What Lao Nie had offered him had seemed perfect.
A friend, an occasional lover, someone willing to slaughter his way into Wen Ruohan’s good graces, but without any serious commitment…it’d been easy. Casual. Light-hearted, the way Lao Nie always was, no matter the circumstances.
Even when their sects had been at odds, it hadn’t ever gotten any more difficult. Lao Nie was a Nie after all; he was straightforward and blunt, even when he was being clever or tricky. He held no fear of lying, did not refrain from it like Lan Qiren, but his actions, at least towards Wen Ruohan, were so lacking in malice that it was impossible to take offense from them. He’d always saved his malice for other people, and let Wen Ruohan share in the fun with him…
Yes, that was it. Lao Nie had always been fun.
And then he’d disappeared for a while, and returned with Nie Mingjue.
That had been the first break between them. A small one, but still a break – it wasn’t that Wen Ruohan hadn’t expected the man to marry eventually, since as sect leader he had a duty to continue his family line, but for whatever reason he’d expected to be involved in the process. Helping pick out some likely girl, debating her merits, that sort of thing, the same way they amiably argued over the pick of prostitutes during parties they attended. He hadn’t expected to be taken by surprise.
He hadn’t expected to care.
It had been only a little consolation that everyone else had been taken by surprise, too.
And of course it had helped that the First Madam Nie, Lao Nie’s much talked-of goddess, never actually made an appearance herself, even if she did get full honors in the Nie sect’s family record. It had been awkward, yes, and had made Wen Ruohan realize that he felt more things for Lao Nie than he really ought to – he’d reacted by ignoring said feelings for nearly a decade – but it hadn’t really felt like a betrayal.
The second wife felt like a betrayal.
They’d argued over that one. Lao Nie hadn’t understood why Wen Ruohan would care, and Wen Ruohan was too arrogant, and too embarrassed, to admit the truth that he did. After all, hadn’t he been the one to insist on them being nothing more than casual friends who occasionally indulged in more than that? And that was all he wanted, too, or thought he’d wanted, only he’d also wanted to be the most important part of Lao Nie’s life, and it came as a nasty shock to discover that he wasn’t. To discover that Lao Nie was actively pursuing others, and that he would pick them over Wen Ruohan if it came to it.
Things had never quite gotten better after that.
Oh, once Lao Nie’s second wife had died – or disappeared, whichever – they had fallen back into each other’s orbit, being almost too familiar with each other not to. They were the leaders of Great Sects, who knew virtually no peer; of that smaller group, they were the only two who were genuinely powerful in their personal capacities, or at least so Wen Ruohan had thought at the time. He’d known that Lao Nie was exceptionally fond of Lan Qiren, fond enough to almost drive Wen Ruohan into jealousy, but luckily he’d heard enough of Lan Qiren’s lectures to know that the two of them would never be compatible in any real sense. Even if Lao Nie had managed to get Lan Qiren into bed, the way Wen Ruohan had semi-seriously suggested to the man a few times that he try to do and which Lao Nie had laughed off as impossible, he’d been confident that Lan Qiren would never eclipse his own position in Lao Nie’s regard.
It certainly hadn’t occurred to him that he might be the one to fall for Lan Qiren in the end.
Wen Ruohan felt confident that he would have acted in the same way, fallen in the same way, even if his relationship with Lao Nie had not deteriorated to such an extent before he’d married Lan Qiren, but that didn’t change the fact that it had. It didn’t change the fact that Wen Ruohan had been growing steadily more offended by the way Lao Nie never seemed to trust him anymore, the way he always ascribed the worst possible motives to him, the way he seemed to think so little of him. Lao Nie had always had a suspicious side to him, which Wen Ruohan had once liked, a point of similarity between them, but he hadn’t liked it when it was aimed at him. Especially when he actually hadn’t done anything to deserve it!
Suspicion – anger – disdain –
It had never occurred to Wen Ruohan that it could have been caused by a qi deviation.
Perhaps it should have, given Lao Nie’s poisonous heritage, but it never had. Lao Nie was Lao Nie: he laughed where his ancestors would have shouted, let his anger carry him forward without letting it master him. He’d looked for solutions to his familial issue, of course, the way all of his ancestors had, but he’d done so idly, not serious, never serious. He always took things so easily. How could he die of rage?
How could he die?
“How long?” Wen Ruohan asked. The Nie sect doctors knew their business by now, after as many generations as it had been. “What do they say?”
“Ten years,” Lan Qiren said, and Wen Ruohan actually took a step back, staggering, horrified: that was so short. “Nie Mingjue said they’d expressed hope for fifteen, maybe even twenty, but that may have been meant only as comfort. As you know, Nie sect leaders die faster the more powerful they are, and Lao Nie’s cultivation is very strong.”
Wen Ruohan shook his head in denial, but he knew even as he did that it wasn’t something that he could deny.
Lao Nie was strong. And now that very strength was going to take him to the end of his life – too young, too soon, even for a Nie. It was all well and good to speak of trading your future for your present, but one day the future would come calling to collect the debt that had been incurred…
“I told Nie Mingjue that we would help however we could, do whatever we could about it,” Lan Qiren said. “Both of us. I assume you do not object?”
“There isn’t anything to be done about it.” Wen Ruohan pressed his fingers to his temples, which throbbed with a sudden headache, his body already starting to express the grief his mind could not yet accept. “Do you think the Qinghe Nie hate their children? They know what inheritance they are passing to them, they know what it costs, what it will take. They all look for a way out, every one of them…if it was easy, if there was a solution, don’t you think they would have found it by now? Every generation has its geniuses. Medicine, cultivation, esoteric arts; they’ve tried them all.”
“I know. There is no guarantee of success. We can only continue to try.” Lan Qiren hesitated, his face twisting into some strange expression that Wen Ruohan couldn’t quite parse. “If you wish…I had already told you that – that I would not object, if you wished to – with Lao Nie – ”
It was unusually garbled for the typically eloquent Lan Qiren, but Wen Ruohan still got the gist.
He shook his head.
“His mood at the party was foul,” he said. “He’s not taking it well, I assume? He’s still processing the revelation himself. Right now he wouldn’t accept a kind word, much less anything else.”
Lan Qiren nodded.
“And…” Wen Ruohan grimaced. “And I don’t know if I want to, anyway.”
That took Lan Qiren by surprise, Wen Ruohan could tell. He hadn’t been expecting that.
In fairness, before he’d said it, Wen Ruohan hadn’t been expecting to say it. If a few months ago someone had come to him and told him that they could prove that Lao Nie hadn’t really meant all the ways he’d been cruel or distrusting – and even if they’d warned him that there was no way to fix it, no way to have the old Lao Nie back, back as he’d been when things had been good – then Wen Ruohan wouldn’t have hesitated to jump right back into his bed.
But that was then. That was before he’d had Lan Qiren – Lan Qiren, who wasn’t light-hearted, who didn’t take everything easily, who was serious and sober and sincere. Who’d given Wen Ruohan his heart, whole and entire; who trusted him, and had faith in him, and forgave him, even against his better instincts. Who loved him, and wasn’t afraid to tell him. Who had let Wen Ruohan change him, who hadn’t been afraid to seek to change Wen Ruohan in turn.
Lan Qiren, who’d told him with all seriousness that he had lost his mind over him.
Wen Ruohan wasn’t alone anymore. He didn’t need to be content with the scraps of Lao Nie’s inconstant heart, which in truth belonged to no one and likely would never, could never. He didn’t need to be constantly hurting himself by wanting more than he could get, and never getting even what he deserved as the man’s friend.
“The qi deviation might have been the cause of his changed behavior,” Wen Ruohan said slowly, feeling it out for himself even as he spoke. “But it still happened. He still did it. Isn’t it the same for you, what happened with the Fire Palace? Just because there was a valid explanation doesn’t change the reality of it – what happened, still happened.”
He’d been hurt by Lao Nie’s seeming disregard of him. He’d been angry, yes, his vanity offended, but…it had been another betrayal, in a lifetime full of them.
Wen Ruohan was so very tired of betrayals.
He could admit, if only to himself, that some of the incompatibility between him and Lao Nie had preceded the qi deviation. Wen Ruohan was ambitious and greedy, he couldn’t be content with only a part of a person’s heart rather than the totality of it, and Lao Nie wasn’t capable of giving him what he wanted. And Wen Ruohan wasn’t able to give Lao Nie what he wanted, which was a connection that didn’t come with jealousy or unhappiness, something to enjoy without concern, without any strings attached.
“I forgave you for the Fire Palace,” Lan Qiren protested.
“Not everyone is you,” Wen Ruohan said, and omitted to mention you’re also in love with me, so your judgment is skewed in my favor – I’ll never complain about having an unfair advantage, but I prefer to recognize when they exist. “Anyway, like I said, it’s not the time. Lao Nie has ten years, and we will help him, just as you promised Nie Mingjue. Maybe we’ll figure out some way to give him a little longer – ”
Alternatively, they could try to find a way to make him immortal.
Wen Ruohan knew that most people thought he was joking when he said that becoming a god would solve a lot of his problems, but it really would. He was already so powerful, surely he just needed a little bit more…
Anyway, that was a later problem. As was the fact that Lan Qiren was also not yet immortal, though Wen Ruohan felt very confident that he’d be able to solve that problem before it became a pressing issue.
(And once they solved the problem of Lao Nie dying, they could perhaps once again discuss the other question. Lao Nie had always been very good in bed, and Wen Ruohan would be delighted to have the chance to introduce Lan Qiren to that fact, if he were willing. But he would only invite him in as a guest, the way Lao Nie preferred, and this time he would leave his heart out of it.)
“For the moment, we need to figure out who is trying to kill us. That’s the immediate issue,” he concluded, deciding not to think further on the subject of those he loved dying when there was a more pressing practical concern, denial and postponement having always served him very well in the past. Anyway, it was relevant. After all, immortality, in the sense of not dying of old age, was all well and good, but it wouldn’t help you if someone assassinated you.
In fact, even knowing that it had happened, even having lived through it, the whole thing still seemed somehow fake to Wen Ruohan. Who would dare try to assassinate him? With actual assassins, no less. Even if he was personally weakened, he still had all his influence, all his army, all his sect behind him. Surely whoever had ordered it would know that he would take vicious reprisals against them? Why would anyone risk such a thing…?
“There should be an answer to that by now,” he added. “Should we go see what it is?”
Lan Qiren blinked owlishly at him, as if surprised. “Have you not already figured it out? It took me a little time, thinking about it, but in retrospect it seems obvious.”
Now it was Wen Ruohan’s turn to be startled. He most certainly had not figured it out.
“What,” he said, a little disbelievingly, “surely not your brother again?”
“No,” Lan Qiren said. “It was Jin Guangshan. We are going to have to go to war.”
#mdzs#wen ruohan#lan qiren#yu ziyuan#wen xu#wen chao#my fic#my fics#Megafic#just so you all know it's a (mostly) valid translation of the phrase :D
85 notes
·
View notes
Text
Q/U/X is for -- Ulysses
Writing for Ulysses always seems to transport me to another world, I swear, he just-- His way of speaking, and the general air about the man is all just... ethereal, in a way? I don't know, but he makes me feel like more of a poet than I've ever been, lol.
And the dialogue prompt he got had me on the floor, it's just SO accurate and perfect for him and Six. Ugh.
Anywho, I hope you guys like it!
And here is the 2k event masterlist, for your browsing pleasure!
--
Pair: Ulysses x g/n! Six
Dialogue: “It’s you. It’s always been you.”
Word: Unite
Rating: SFW
Category: Fluff
Word Count: 1.1k
“Um, well, I suppose I should be leaving, then. Ulysses.” Six stepped away from the pair’s close proximity slowly, backing up while still facing him.
To hold our eye contact, or to make sure I don't stab them in the back?
“You’re not leaving.”
Though the words commanded Six's attention, the way he voiced it was more of a question than an order.
Ulysses couldn’t tell if that put them at ease or not.
“Well, I… Why you’d want to be around me at all, after everything I’ve learned about myself... I don’t blame you for wanting me dead, is all. Figure I should leave before you act on it though, right?”
Six’s voice was nervous, but there was a sadness that Ulysses detected there as well. A shame, even.
They should feel ashamed for what they’ve done… But then, is the shame enough of a consequence on its own? Does it absolve them of their wrongdoings, if they are pained by it this way, even without memory of the action itself?
“What about my behavior has told you that I plan on acting on what I spoke about in our first meeting?”
Ulysses was closer to them now, looking down the point of his mask to their large eyes, wide with… was it fear?
Still?
“I don’t know, I just… I understand why you were so furious, why you sought me out, I couldn’t imagine… If I had a home, and someone took it from me, well, I’d like to think I would’ve done the same as you did. Only, maybe less honorably.”
A soft snort escaped the mask, and Six could see some semblance of sympathy shining within the dark depths of Ulysses’ intense eyes.
“That, in itself, is honorable to say.” They couldn’t pull their gaze from his, and as his compliment met their ears, a smooth tingle of relief wove up their spine. Ulysses could see it, from his perspective, the way they sought his forgiveness.
That too, was honorable.
He couldn’t help but admire the courier then. Then… and now. Now, as he shared his tent with them. A temporary home, but still some fragment of the place of belonging that they both craved so wholly.
And how could he blame them? With their memories, as shoddy and incomplete as the crude camps he’d often made himself to stifle that wound in his chest that the Divide was meant to fill.
They didn’t even know who they were, what they’d done, or why. It was a struggle he himself could not quite imagine.
“I can’t believe I’m here…”
Ulysses heard them say, perhaps to themself, as they turned and dropped their pack back to its place near to his sleeping mat.
“I mean, I thought you hated me… That you would never forgive me, never stop… trying to kill me.”
“Hate and love are but cousins;” Ulysses told them, stepping closer as they rounded to face him again, “Passion drawn from deep within and showcasing itself in the most intense forms available to us. The difference is but one instant.”
And that instant is now.
Ulysses’ impassioned gaze told them, near amber in color, with the emotion blazing within them. The simple look itself sent an overwhelming shiver down the courier’s spine.
“But, hold on.” They said, before his stare had a chance to hold them prisoner for eternity, “Everything I’ve done, I mean… Your second chance, your home, a place away from the Legion, a new start, it was all yours, until me. How... how could you look past that?"
Ulysses could easily see the struggle within them from the outside, just as much as he heard it in their words.
Is it so hard for them to detect my own inner thoughts?
After the nights they’d shared, they’d had to share during the massive dust storm that could’ve claimed both their lives, had they not had each other; how could they not see the way his view of them has changed?
Six had seen him all those nights. His perseverance, his will, yes, that they knew of before the pair had properly even met. No, but those nights, they’d seen a glimpse of his vulnerability. The man behind the mask, the one who longs for a place to call his own, a place to belong, after a lifetime of feeling wrong.
Wrong for turning his back on the Twisted Hairs with the illusion of not having a choice, wrong for being a part of the Legion, the very same faction that murdered and enslaved his people, that eradicated them from the map and from memory. Then, maybe wrongly too, he’d turned his back on the Legion as well.
Had he no honor? Had he not a decisive mind? No allegiance? No loyalty?
Who was Ulysses, if not a Twisted Hair, if not a Frumentarius, if not a courier?
So wholeheartedly he had always formed his identity around that which he was forced to follow, to be a part of, even against his own wishes.
His wishes, that now he had the freedom to consider.
And Ulysses did.
Even now, he was considering Six. The courier who’d seen him, a blank slate, with not even themself for Ulysses to obsess over. No, now all was out in the open. No holotapes, no hiding, no mystery, and yet, Six accepted him, forgave him, allied themself with him...
It was true. Ulysses had made up his mind now, and he’d done it on his own, wholly.
“My new start?” He said, his voice rumbling so softly from within his mask, that Six had to lean in close to catch his words. “It’s you. It’s always been you. I merely had to reflect to see it. To look back on my past, and on yours. The way that you’ve shaped me, without even knowing it.”
Six blinked at him, and their mouth fell slightly agape in their shock.
“Our stories are comparable, Six. Both alone, with a rich past, but no idea who we truly are. Not when your memory was taken from you, and my individuality. Together though, I see a change in both of us. I see what I thought was stolen forever from me, by you.”
Ulysses took another step forward, his chest just barely brushing Six’s as he took a deep breath in, his eyes locked to theirs, dark hair curtaining an intense, but pleading expression.
And there it was again, that vulnerability that the ex-soldier, ex-spy, had never been able to show another living soul, and it was showing plain in his expression, sounding so clearly in his voice, that it was effortless.
Six made it effortless for him to be genuine with them.
It was something he could find himself getting used to, he thought.
“With you,” He continued, raising one hand to brush the roughened tips of his fingers to Six’s chin. Affectionate, but subtle. “I see a future for us both.”
#2k event#2k celebration#secret event#fallout#fallout companions#fallout npc#fallout new vegas#fallout new vegas dlcs#fallout nv#new vegas#fnv#courier six#ulysses fnv#ulysses#ulysses x six
63 notes
·
View notes
Text
kentaro sakaguchi mini personality reading
positives + negatives edition
this reading is part of a paid commision, thank you so much for trusting in me! <3 celebrity commissions • personal commissions
+ positives
he is divinely guided. he’s always looking to do something new and pushes himself outside his comfort zone, he doesn’t want to be stagnant and bored and doing the some thing. he’s the type to work hard AND play hard, when he cares about something he takes it seriously but he also knows how to have fun and lets himself indulge in his interests. he’s there for people during bad times as well as good times, he’s very devoted to his loved ones and can push himself hard to be there for them even if it’s difficult or exhausting. but he’s also fun to be around, and if you know him you’d want to invite him to all of your parties and you’d want him there to help you celebrate your wins. he isn’t the type to gatekeep, he wants to help other people and share his knowledge. he’s good at getting along with people, but he’s also super serious and businesslike, he gets stuff done efficiently (almost like he can be good cop and bad cop vibe). he’s good at building the right connections. he’s quite generous and spoils people he loves with his money. he’s also pretty sexual, in a positive way, in a sense that he’s really respectful to and appreciates his partners. he’s pretty confident in himself and his abilities for the most part (probably because he feels guided). he very takes good care of himself (probably always smells good for example).
- negatives
not very independent and relies on other people to help him achieve goals (he uses his connections and social skills to advance him). he wants to be the center of attention and can be too fun-loving to achieve that (like he takes jokes way too far, can get too rowdy or perhaps is even into practical jokes). has trouble with being an extreme person in general, he works hard and plays hard, but does both to the extreme and can oscillate (he doesn’t know what a happy medium really is). he actually goes over the top a lot in all ways - takes jokes too far, when he overworks himself, he doesn’t sleep, when he gets angry he gets really angry (can have anger problems in general) he can be pretty overindulgent (could get drunk a lot for example). doesn’t take care of himself well (health wise, but also mentally). he can easily find himself in toxic relationships and he tends to be way too intense in his romantic connections (he can also enter sexual and romantic relationships too quickly, easily pulled in by looks and flirting). he’s judgmental, bigoted and can have a hard time being open minded. he doesn’t compromise easily. he’s impulsive, doesn’t think about the consequences of his actions and also doesn’t learn from past mistakes. he doesn’t know how to take blame for his wrongdoings (there’s people he’s hurt and he still can’t see how even a small part of it is his fault, can in fact even blame the other person intensely). he can lie a lot and keep harmful secrets. he’s quite arrogant and even tends to overestimate his importance in other people’s lives (can use his status to hold it over people too).
#tarot#celebrity tarot reading#celebrity tarot#positives + negatives#mini personality reading#kentaro sakaguchi#jdrama#jdrama readings
17 notes
·
View notes
Note
This might sounds kinda rude but I genuinely wanna know. Do you like ayato more than yui? Because it seems like you always side with ayato and always explain the things he does even when he’s in the wrong but when it’s yui u just agree like saying she’s mentally unstable ( I remember reading a post like that a while ago) also I do enjoy yours posts but I just really wanna know
// You must be new here because I always defend and explain why Yui acts in a certain way. These are only few of the examples :
1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9
I sometimes call her mentally unstable based on what happens in the bad endings and while I can’t justify her actions, I can’t entirely blame her for what she did there either. Moreover, it’s impossible to stay mentally sane when living with vampires because you will obviously have to become a DO-M.
The reason why I defend Ayato more nowadays is because all the negative Yui asks I get are about the same thing all over again and they’re not even worth answering anymore.
Now, let's talk about Ayato's wrongdoings. I must confess that everyone in HDB was mean, so I can't take anyone's side there, but in the other games... That's another story (for real, since time has been rewinded, lol).
Disclaimer: I’m not promoting any sort of hate towards any of the Sakamakis here. You can like/love them as characters but nobody can deny that they played a part in Ayato becoming this way.
What Ayato hates the most and is insecure about:
What his brothers did to him:
People underestimate how much Ayato has suffered as a result of his parents AND brothers. He is aware of how unfairly they treated him for centuries, to the point where he developed new insecurities and began to even be mad at himself as a result. He was manipulated, belittled, used and ended up being cursed due to them. Therefore, I perfectly understand why he refuses to listen to or happens to lash out at them. I’m actually surprised he’s still able to forgive and care for them—. Sure, he makes some terrible decisions too, but it's because he wants to prove himself capable so that others would finally stop mocking him.
Furthermore, Yui as well began defending him and became tired of his brothers' treatment of him, demonstrating the gravity of the situation.
84 notes
·
View notes
Text
Nueva (Death/Muerte/The Wolf | Puss in Boots: The Last Wish)
Series Masterlist
Summary — How she became life and he became death.
Requested by @odditycircus-2002 — Speaking of your Curador fic, may I please request hcs of how Vida and Muerte met and bonded as soulmates in your AU?
Warnings & Other Tags
➳ Mentions and light descriptions of death; sort of hurt/comfort; lost memories; new companionship.
Notes
➳ Word Count is 565.
➳ The Reader in this series uses a filler name (Vida, she/her), is represented by a spotted deer, and is the physical manifestation of Life. Meanwhile, Death will be referred to as ‘Muerte’.
FAQ | Masterlist | Fandoms | Requests | Coming Soon | Schedule
Your life began with your death.
Your soul was forfeit upon your father’s brutal killing of a sacred deer. And, rather than repenting for his wrongdoings, he offered you up for sacrifice.
A vague memory of a village leader’s hands tight around your throat while another chanted apologies to the heavens often went through your mind. As did the last earthly connection to your father, who held your sobbing mother in his arms, was his gaze burning into you.
And then, void.
Red eyes. Two sharp blades. A midnight cloak.
Muerte’s tall figure was what greeted you in the afterlife, a place in which you could wander the world unseen by those still living.
His large paw reached out and, from that moment forward, you were his.
“Bienvenida a la eternidad.”
Being the embodiment of life itself was difficult for the first few hundred years, but Muerte was always there for guidance. After a while, however, most of your memories began to fade away, which both frightened and relieved you at the same time.
In your grasp was a bluebell, its stem tightly strung around you. Its petals gently swayed in the breeze. You sat alone on a cliffside that allowed you to overlook a distant town that nestled deep within a valley.
Your eyes trailed over the bluebell, examining it in deep thought. It seemed like it had been hours since Muerte left you there at sunset. Just as the stars began to shine in the dark night, footsteps cut through the dirt, signaling someone slowly climbing up the grassy hillside.
You felt the heavy black cloak you had come to know so well drape carefully over your shoulders. Next to you, Muerte placed his paws on his hips, letting out a deep sigh, “The flower?”
“I feel like someone liked to give me these once,” you muttered.
He hummed, “Tell me.”
You frowned, still looking at the flower for answers, “I can’t.”
Muerte’s eyes softened. He barely offered you a glance out of fear that you would notice his new vulnerability, “It is hard when everything begins to disappear. Immorality provides, but it must also take. It will get easier.”
You nodded. Slowly, you eased the flower to the ground, a violet glow sparkling from your touch. The soil shifted and the bluebell sprouted new roots within seconds, reattaching itself to the dirt, eager to continue with its life.
Your capabilities were still blossoming, but they were growing stronger by the day, “What do you remember?”
Despite continuing to gaze at the town’s distant lights, you could sense how tense Muerte suddenly became. You drew his cloak tighter around you, further shielding yourself from the cool nighttime air.
“A girl,” he whispered, his thoughts seemingly beginning to drift away, “in a red cape.”
“Is she the one who—?”
“No, she wasn’t my end. Not directly,” he shook his head. “I think I was... blamed.”
“Blamed?” you furrowed your eyebrows.
“For her death,” he said. “It was someone else who hurt her. He was a woodsman, I remember that. But for some reason, they thought it was me. And so, I was the one who faced punishment.”
“And your name?” you whispered. “I don’t remember mine anymore.”
He shook his head again, “We are the same, you and I. No name, no home, no definitive history. Sólo esta nueva existencia.”
“Only this,” you echoed.
Spanish Translations, In Order of Appearance:
➳ Nueva — Meaning “new”.
➳ Muerte — Meaning “death”.
➳ Vida — Meaning “life”.
➳ “Bienvenida a la eternidad…” — “Welcome to eternity…”
➳ “Sólo esta nueva existencia.” — “Only this new existence.”
#2023#vida y muerte#death imagines#death imagine#death x reader#death x oc#muerte imagines#muerte imagine#muerte x reader#muerte x oc#the wolf imagine#the wolf imagines#the wolf x reader#the wolf x oc#requested#puss in boots the last wish#puss in boots the last wish imagine#puss in boots the last wish imagines#puss in boots the last wish x reader#puss in boots the last wish x oc
92 notes
·
View notes
Note
What’s your response to people who criticize Sasuke’s choice to destroy Konoha? That he should be more thoughtful of how complicated the situation was?
The problem is that Sasuke challenges the violence monopoly the shinobi system has. So them using violence and torture to accomplish their objectives is “the way it is” or “uhm wrong I guess?” but Sasuke claiming that same violence in order to react to them it’s “going too far”.
They can’t ask those wronged to fit the aesthetically pleasing way to fix things for the rest of the people to support them, they can’t ask them not to react violently to being approached destructively. They are more focused on their methods than what they’re replying to -they’re more concerned about how uncomfortable their reaction makes them rather than what they’re rising against.
Stating “violence is not the way” is just giving the oppressors more tools against those they put under them (remember, there’s no natural order -no natural occurrence of things, a group collectively chose to establish an entire portion of people to live by and under their rules and mercy), as they’re the only ones with the power to forcefully suppress them, while at the same time it gives them a convenient argument in order to deligitimise their uprising.
It forces those oppressed to endure discrimination until a change is reached through time -it’s condemns those wronged to keep living in the same manner under the premises of a promise; it’s basically telling them “well, you suffered a lot already, what is it to you to suffer a little bit more?”
The “situation” is complicated because people like Sasuke exist, if he hadn’t pointed out the wrongdoings and hadn’t wanted to bring a change, nothing would’ve even been discussed -they blame him for reacting violently to the state-sanctioned genocide of his own people. What are they expect him to do? Sing kumbaya with Konoha’s council? Having a tea party to calmly discuss matters? Why would he trust Naruto who said over and over again he wanted to become Hokage (thus, he never questioned the structure in which such position is constructed)? Why would he wait until he reaches power when he can try to change things now?
They like violence (I don’t know what they were expecting to see in a Shönen -if they didn’t like violence in the first place, maybe they should read another type of story altogether), they just don't like minorities having access to the violence they pretend to monopolize.
#sasuke#sasuke uchiha#pro sasuke#pro sasuke uchiha#pro uchiha clan#anti konoha#anti shinobi system#anti naruto#anti naruto fandom#anti will of fire
197 notes
·
View notes
Text
┈─ 𖧷 LIKE MOTHER, LIKE DAUGHTER ﹕ XIÙ MINGYUE. set pre-debut. genre, angst. ( i dont believe in god anymore. i don’t belive in my father either. — nicola yoon, the sun is also a star. ) TW for abuse, mentions of death, victim blaming, and a shitty father figure. if i’ve left anything out, please let me know.
“you’re leaving.”
it’s a dark night when mingyue sets about packing her childhood bedroom. the newly bare walls make the room look even more eerie by the lowlit glow of her lamp, giving a lifeless hue to the space that once held comfort almost tangible. now it only holds memories of hurt and pain, reminders of what she’d once had evident in tape residue and filled in cracks.
if she listened hard enough, she can still hear her mother’s laughter lingering in the air.
her father lingers in the doorway when she turns to finally face him, short with age and the weight of all his wrongdoings. not that he cared, she thinks bitterly. all these years and still no apology. not an inkling of remorse in those cold eyes.
mingyue thinks about issuing him a response. she could play the oblivious daughter and answer sweetly, as if she hadn’t moved out when she’d finally heard him settle down after a drunken rampage. she could scream, cry, throw the books in her hands. shake answers from him like tossed coins from an 8-bit character.
she doesn’t nothing but stare at him. her silence hangs between them, his words still lingering. heavy. cold.
“you still look just like her.”
suddenly she’s thirteen and frozen, eyes widened with confusion and fear, not understanding why her father had turned so cold. her mother was gone, left, dead— and it was her fault, punctuated by bruises and skin left stung red with too-big handprints. the book’s spine digs into her palm.
“enough to beat a child for it? lucky me.”
he’s conscious enough to wince as if it erases the fact that she can’t sleep in the dark anymore. her words aren’t even laced with venom like she thought they would be. nights spent with tears in her eyes, wishing him dead instead of her mother.
“i’m s—”
“save it.” a sharp jab shakes her out of her stupor, turning around to drop the book in a box. she ignores the sting spreading across the bridge of her nose, hides the shaking hands by busying herself. “not as if it matters, anyway. i’m going to leave and you won’t have to be burdened by me anymore. everyone wins.”
her voice cracks on the last word, just ever so slightly. she doesn’t mention it. he doesn’t mention it.
the harsh sound of tape is the only sound for a couple minutes, mingyue moving around her bedroom as her father watches her wearily. it makes her skin crawl, itching with the mortifying feeling of his guilt—guilt, of all feelings—running down her back like slime. it makes her shudder minutely, refusing to glance at him even once.
“i know you won’t believe me, but i’m proud of you. i always have been. even when i didn’t show it.”
she scoffs, but otherwise doesn’t dignify him with a response. all her medals and certificates sit in a crammed box at the back of her closet. she can still hear his angry voice even now, towering over her as she clutched her medal with small, shaking hands.
you will never be her. stop trying, useless waste of breath.
she still struggles to not breathe too loud in his presence. cursed habit born out of fear.
“i haven’t…” he stops, gripping the doorway, seemingly at a loss for words. “i know i haven’t been— your mother’s passing was hard on all of us, yue. it was hard—”
“don’t call me that.”
“i’m sorry—?”
“you don’t get to call me that anymore.” not when she can hear the soft voice of her mother lulling her to sleep, silky as she stroked her hair, murmuring sweet nothings. “you don’t get to make—excuses, and still expect things to go back to normal.”
frustration creeps into her father’s face almost unknowingly. familiarity. his true colors.
“i’m not trying to give excuses. i’m just trying to make you understand that i know what i did was wrong—”
“i was a child. a child, and was blamed for something i couldn’t control—”
her hysteria festers like a second living thing, a symbiote, feeding on her rising emotion. all while he stood there motionless, freshly pressed slacks and not a single wrinkle on his dress shirt. the picture perfect ceo. her nerves fray with every passing millisecond.
“you’re stressed,” he mutters, clearly displeased. her heart climbs into her throat, blinking back sudden tears of anger and fear of disappointment. ( still, after all these years. ) “your auditions have been too hard on you. we can finish this conversation later.”
dismissed. something snaps.
“don’t you get it?” she suddenly shouts, startling him just as he begins to turn away, her voice breaking more audibly. he just stares back, expression void of any emotions. “you aren’t the only one fucking suffering!”
her chest rises and falls rapidly, fingers clutching at her shirt. wrinkled fabric bunches in her palms, a stark contrast to his perfectly put together appearance. mingyue’s stomach lurches.
“she died because of you,” her voice grates unevenly, a sick part of her laughing at the open distaste she gets in response. “and you took it out on me, all because i had her face. i was five. i was fucking five! and i missed my mother. and you treated me like i was the one who made her jump off that building when it was you who didn’t do a single thing to protect her—”
she doesn’t feel it. not at first, anyway.
pain blossoms like a sickly flower across her cheek, cutting her off abruptly as her head makes a sharp turn to the right. mingyue is stunned into silence, not having felt a hand raised against her since she was fifteen. she’d been too careless. she’d let her guard down far too much.
her erratic breathing is the only thing audible in the room. her father watches her shake visibly. she’s seventeen. she’s fifteen. she’s five again, wondering why daddy didn’t seem to like her as much anymore. wondering why she can’t find her mommy. wondering why nobody wants to look at her for too long.
“she was my wife before she was your mother.” his voice hisses too close to her face, spittle landing on her check. “had you not been born, she would still be alive. and you have the audacity to open your mouth like you know anything.”
mingyue doesn’t dare breathe.
“ungrateful as always,” he scoffs, looking down at her. she towers over him now, but he’d always been good at making her feel small. “you leave my house and think you can grow wings. you’re pathetic.”
a tear slides down the slope of her cheek despite her best efforts.
“if i see you here in the morning, i’m calling the police.” her father’s lip curls into a snarl, leaving the room without a glance back. “my daughter died along with my wife.”
the door slams behind him. mingyue crumples to the ground, hand to her still thudding cheek in shock.
silly her for expecting anything different.
#˖ nbliss ୨ ࣪ ˓ [ development. ]#˖ nbliss ୨ ࣪ ˓ [ written in stone. ]#all in favor of hunting xiù’s father for sport like the mf hunger games say aye 🙋🏽♀️#fake idol community#fake idol oc#fake idol group#fake girl group#fictional idol community#fictional idol company#fictional idol group#fictional girl group#idolverse
9 notes
·
View notes
Note
One thing that confuses me is that if it were the other way around geto wouldn't kill gojo he would understand why gojo was doing that but he wouldn't kill him. Something I noticed is that Gojo is strong in terms of strength but he is weak psychologically He pretends to be arrogant but is a fragile character, breaking and still living in the past. I think Satura Gojo is one of the most complex characters in Jujutsu Kaisen. 1.Your personality appears to be fake. 2. his emotions are very limited, like crying, sadness almost all the time, he is happy, which scares me. 3. Your arrogance irritates me a lot. I have a question which do you prefer geto or gojo? ps; I prefer geto. If you can answer I would appreciate it.
Not Gojo slander in my inbox.
Geto forced his hand. For ten years, Gojo turned a blind eye to his wrongdoings and awful ideology but that couldn’t keep going after Geto declared war to the school. Nanako and Mimiko never forgave him but even they thought it was appropriate and chose to never avenge Geto: the man they loved, admired and revered above all.
Gojo did the right thing and Geto agrees with me. If anything, he was happy to be killed by Gojo instead of Yuuta or anyone else.
I don’t think Gojo pretends to be arrogant. Hell, I don’t even think he’s arrogant to be honest. He might have been arrogant against Sukuna (thinking he’d win) but Gojo is that girl. It’s not arrogance if you can back it up.
Gojo’s problem is that he never really had the chance or space to explore his own feelings. Sure, he wouldn’t let anyone close to him but that’s not entirely his fault. He can’t stop others from seeing him as something super human, as The Strongest. He just embraced that role and the responsibilities that came with it. Could he have done it differently? Sure. But I wouldn’t call him weak for that. As you said, Gojo is full of complexities. He bottles up the negative emotions and only shows the positive ones (as many of us do) but that’s a result of how lonely it feels to be put on a pedestal and to be seen as a concept rather than a person. The complexity stems from the fact that he himself contributed to that condition. But can we really blame him when his weaknesses have always been used to commit atrocities? The system depends on him being the strongest. He never really had a choice. What people think you are you will become.
Sure, Geto makes him weak as fuck but have you seen him? I’d be weak too. That’s the only person who ever understood him, the only person he’s ever been in love with, the only person to see him as human, to care for him and let him be vulnerable, the only person he couldn’t hide away from. You can’t get over that type of heartbreak. Being human is about feeling and Gojo does feel a lot. Does it make him weak? No, just terribly human, despite his efforts not to be.
Finally, I love them both equally. Just in different ways. I want to tear Gojo apart, while I’d settle on punching Geto and dissecting him just to see what’s inside his stupid head.
8 notes
·
View notes
Text
the french exit | epilogue
kylian mbappé x original female character [+18]
synopsis: alice is a lonely rich girl whose biggest fear is to become a lonely rich woman. ever since they moved to paris, her fiancé doesn’t seem to be interested in her anymore. so alice decides to find comfort in the arms of another man.
warnings: cheating; angst; smut; i have never been to france; minors dni.
previous chapter | masterlist
Epilogue
Life is easier when you're in love. When you feel understood and connected to another person. Alice goes home everyday to her favorite person in the world, and she doesn't have to ask: he’s always there, he’s always looking at her and understanding her. And loving her back.
The guilt still creeps up on her, naturally. It comes sometimes in the shape of a nightmare, she jumps in bed in a cold sweat in the middle of the night and gets too scared to sleep again. Liar. Other times is during the day, under the sun, when, for a second, she thinks she forgot her engagement ring before leaving the house. And then she remembers. Liar.
A week before the date of the wedding, David announces through social media that he’s dating someone else – a French woman who works at his office – and Alice is reminded that she wasn’t alone in her wrongdoings. It was a group project. A sinful ballad played by four people. Liars.
But life is easier, still. Because she’s in love. Cat has a name now, it’s Renoir. The name was chosen after the kitten completely destroyed a homonyms book that described the famous painter's work and used to sit at the coffee table in the living room. Alice interpreted it as a sign and treats baby Renoir as the proper artist he is, ever since.
Alice is suspicious that Renoir likes Kylian more than he likes her, but she can’t blame the kitten for it, since she makes him watch a lot of PSG matches with her. It makes sense that he would nurture some sort of admiration for the talented player.
“I want you to meet my family.” Kylian asks one day, over breakfast. “I want to meet your family as well, I want us to be official.” He’s holding her hand. “I guess what I’m really asking is: do you want to be my girlfriend?”
She does, so she says yes. It’s different this time, being someone’s girlfriend, they have been living together for months, if you count the first time she brought a toothbrush and a luggage to the apartment, and you really should count since then. They are intimate with each other, they share dark secrets already, so early into the relationship and they know each other so well. The honeymoon phase is long gone. So it’s different. It 's easier.
“Here, I brought you something.”
They are getting ready for a dinner party they’re hosting. They invited their closest friends, it’s the first time they’re doing something like that. Kylian hands her a red box, it says Cartier on top. Alice gasps when she opens it – it’s a beautiful diamond necklace.
“Oh my God, Kyky, it 's gorgeous!”
“Do you love it?”
Secretly, he always wished to cover her in diamonds and jewelry. To give her a bigger ring than the other guy had. He bought the necklace when she was still with that other man, when he was still a secret. When nobody knew about them. Ever since she became his official girlfriend, he’s been waiting for the right time to give it to her.
“I love it!” Alice laughs and hugs him. “Thank you so much!”
She hasn't done her makeup or put on her dress yet, standing in the bedroom in only her bra and pantyhose. She asks him to put on the jewel for her, and he guides her to the floor length mirror, standing behind her.
“Do you think it looks good on me?” Alice asks, touching the necklace. Kylian still has his hand on her hair, holding it up. He enjoys the view, and while looking at her through the mirror, he gives her soft kisses on her neck and takes his lips up to her ear where he whispers.
“Everything looks good on you, baby.”
Alice feels him hardening in his pants, behind her.
“Kyky, we don’t have time!” She giggles. “Our friends will be here any minute now.”
“That’s why we need to take care of it now. You don’t me like this during dinner, do you?” Kylian bites her ear and goes back to the neck kisses. His hand guided her hips closer to his, rubbing himself on her, making her feel him.
“You’re evil.” He’s taking off her bra as she says that. “You know I can't resist you!”
“No, you can’t. Can you?” He laughs, she’s wearing nothing but the diamond necklace now. “My baby could never resist me.”
Kylian pushes her closer to the mirror, she has her hand and face resting on it as he starts fucking her from behind.
“Thank you.” She says as soon as he enters her. She needs him to know that she’s thankful, need him to know how happy it makes her having him inside of her, where he belongs.
“Look at yourself!” He pulls her hair and move her face so she can see, his other hand on her breast, pinching her nipple. “Look, baby. The necklace compliments your tits.” He fucks her harder, as if to prove a point, her breasts and the jewel moving according to his command. “So pretty.” Kylian’s voice is rough, they’re in a hurry and he didn’t forget. His hand finds her clit and he touches her with expertise. He knows her too well, it doesn't take long to give his girl an orgasm. “That’s right, baby, cum for me. Yes, I’m cumming too. Fuck.”
Dinner dates with friends are easier when you’re in love. They have a hand on each other at all times during the meal. ‘You two are disgusting!” – their friends point out multiple times in the evening. When Alice tells her mother about Kylian, and about the fact that they’re living together, Caroline laughs and says: “Well, if you decide to marry him at least we already have the dress!”
...
@mywhimsyjournal @lalunaenamoradasworld
46 notes
·
View notes
Text
not Mew in his revenge arc dressing up more as Ray? Is it cuz Top hates Ray? Mew showing that he’ll morally never stoop as low as Boston was a very good non vengeful revenge but I can’t forgive him for using Ray’s feelings. Then again we need this so Ray realises he loves Sand
Everything Boston says makes me angry. Yes Nick wiretapping Boston was wrong but you can’t blame your wrongdoings being revealed to your friends on him!? And the way he said “he borrowed” Top and that he came first…a jerk. But that comedic ass kick was the highlight 🤣
7 notes
·
View notes
Text
✶ glimpse of us [ part two ] ; lee heeseung.
synopsis. heeseung comes to the cruel realization that you're everything he's ever wanted, but he never learns.
info. angst. non idol!lee heeseung x gn!reader [ they / them prns ]. 1, 111 words.
warnings. crying, destructive behavior, heartbreak, slight profanity, grammatical, structural errors, lowercase, small text intended, proof-read-ish!
[ now playing . . . ] glimpse of us by joji / part one.
small thoughts that drop into place, helping heeseung grasp the reality of the situation.
he finds himself striding into the café you’d accompany him to, unconsciously remembering your order to a ’t’. he’d known it like the back of his hand, and as if on cue — he wishes you were here.
he catches himself, quickly shooing these thoughts that plague his mind. he scolds himself, ashamed of his behavior, and attempts to go through his day. keyword, attempts.
this became a daily occurrence, these tiny, mundane things reminding him of all the best parts that make you — you. it became a battle everyday as he selfishly mourns the lost of you, and your love.
it was a nightmare come to life, your face slowly etching into his brain, the look of pure pain that set into your features that fateful night quickly seeping into him like concrete, how could he be so stupid?
a push and pull of loving you and hating you, perplexed as to why he’d felt this open pit within himself ever since he left you.
he knows how stupid he looks right now, hating you over his own wrongdoings. not willing to take the blame because it only further proves his point that he’s an absolute shitty individual.
so here he sits, shoving down all thoughts of you that remain scattered around in his brain, tucked away neatly as he finds refuge in this tiny café. but it all comes crashing down once he hears a laugh so familiar, almost like home.
it scares him of course, how dare his brain play such a nasty trick on him. but nothing keeps him from lifting his head in hopes of being able to see you, and whoever was listening decided to answer his prayers because there you sit not too far from him.
he laughs in unbelievability, because there’s no way that you’re there in the flesh. there’s this sinking feeling in his chest as he continues to stare you down, wishing that you’d turn your head to make eye contact with him. his feelings get the best of him as he quickly scrambles out of his seat, stumbling over his feet like a complete fool as he inches closer to your secluded table.
“y/n?” he asks with hesitancy. from then on, he watches your every move, it’s as if time is set in slow motion as he watches your features glisten in the golden sunlight that spills through the café windows.
your head moves first before your eyes follow, just like he remembered. “heeseung?” and just like that, he smiles at the sound of your voice, a voice he’s so desperately been wanting to hear after years of being deprived from it.
he lets out another incredulous laugh, running a hand through his hair as the air surrounding you two becomes thick and suffocating. you’re both unsure of how to continue the conversation, well the lack of one. tears swell up in his eyes as the overwhelming amount of emotions comes pouring out, rendering him speechless.
so you decide to speak up, “why are you crying?” you ask, looking at him with an expression that he can’t seem to put his finger on. so he opts to look at his dirty shoes, now realizing that they were pair you had bought him for his birthday, years ago. he smiles at the thought, lost in the happiness of the past he’d once felt.
“earth to hee?” you awkwardly joke, waving a hand in front of his face. he snaps back into reality, making eye contact once more, “i haven’t been called that in years,” he says, a smile present but it doesn’t reach his eyes.
you chuckle half-heartedly, looking away, “w-what, uh, what brings you here?” you ask curiously. he shrugs, “reminds me of you.” this prompts you to cock a brow up before shaking your head in disapproval, “don’t start, heeseung,” your voice stern.
heeseung throws all morals out the window as he sucks in a breath, “i miss you,” he whispers.
your jaw drops slightly, eyes widening in surprise as you stay frozen in your seat. it all becomes too overwhelming, the overlapping noise of people in the café, the harsh lighting, him, it’s all too much. you grab your belongings haphazardly before booking it to the exit.
heeseung watches in horror as you leave, this time he can’t lose you, he just — can’t. he dashes after you, shouting your name to get your attention, but you keep your back turned to him.
“y/n, please let me talk!” he begs but your stride never lets up as you continue to walk anywhere but where you are now. he runs quicker, finally reaching up to you before grabbing onto your wrist.
you pull your hand back aggressively, pushing him away. “no, heeseung. you can’t just say that and assume i’ll go back to you like everything’s fine!” you shout at him.
the sidewalks are clear of people, your voice booms and bounces off the walls as you express your anger towards the man you once loved.
“i’m sorry, okay? i know i’m stupid, a-and selfish, but i’m completely, and utterly in love with you. please, you have to believe me!” heeseung wails, fresh tears covering the tracks of his old ones.
you look at him as if he’d grow two heads, “i loved you,” you say sincerely as you place a hand on your heart, “but you’re the one who left me.”
your tone’s surprisingly calm compared to the situation at hand, no ounce of anger or sadness. your nonchalantness makes heeseung hysterical as he steps forward to reach out, only for you take a step backwards and away from him.
“you were it for me, y'know that? i loved you so much.” you confess, wrapping your arms around yourself as a form of protection. he’s like a dog with it’s tail tucked between it’s legs as he listens to you intently.
you shrug, eyes lingering on each other longer than normal. “i don’t trust you anymore, i’m sorry.” you say sincerely, voice wavering slightly. heeseung sniffles, hanging his head low, “i’m the one who should be sorry, and i am! please just come back to me,” he pleads one last time.
“good bye, heeseung.”
you take a few steps backwards to catch one last look at the two of you, everything you two had, before facing forward, and walking away.
tears swell in his eyes as he looks up to find the love of his life slip past his fingers, again. “i love you, y/n.” he says to your fleeting figure, his last words hanging in the air, never to be heard by you.
heeseung closes his eyes, he thinks of how things were as he tries to catch a glimpse of you.
★ enhypen taglist. @ficscafe ... @kflixnet ... @enhacolor ... @alohajun
[ 🎧 ] jaydi's notes. hihi! i reposted this bc i was having trouble w my tags :< my fic wasn't showing up in them saur i had to redo everything kinda rude if u ask me 🫥
#ficscafe#kflixnet#enhypen imagines#enhypen blurbs#enhypen drabbles#enhypen angst#enhypen x reader#lee heeseung imagines#lee heeseung blurbs#lee heeseung drabbles#lee heeseung angst#lee heeseung x reader#heeseung imagines#heeseung blurbs#heeseung drabbles#heeseung angst#heeseung x reader
130 notes
·
View notes
Note
I can understand some of the criticisms Loki stans make about Mobius, but most of the time they are far too black and white and exaggerated. They call him a Nazi and a fascist. And Brainwashing is no excuse for his behaviour (but it is for Loki?). I always fail to understand that.
I find it very naive and kind of cold-hearted because hardly anyone would be able to immediately understand in Mobius' situation that the TVA might not be so good after all. When you get into a system as an adult man with no memories, you have no way to compare your moral values with anything else.
It is rather astonishing that Mobius preserved his kidness and develops doubts in such an environment. That shows exactly what kind of person he actually is. I think in general you can't judge anyone in the TVA. This organization was created by the most powerful man in the universe and it would be strange if it was easy to get out of.
These are still humans who can hardly do anything against a higher power. Calling them Nazis is so out of place because nobody ever asked them if they wanted to do that job. They were FORCED. They lost everthing - personality, memories, families, friends. A normal human life.
Besides, the TVA exists to prevent a war. Everyone believes in the TVA because they are told that with the sacrifices a much greater suffering is prevented. They didn't prune Variants because of fascist ideolgy. They just wanted to survive.
Anyone who thinks that if they were Mobius, they would stand above all this and break free with ease, has no idea how the human psyche works.
Whoever understands and forgives Loki, but condemns Mobius and the TVA in the strongest possible terms, has a double standard. Selective empathy shows that the person's evaluation is not on a rational but on an emotional level. Only then is it possible for the antis Mobius to think that he is the devil himself and that every single breath he takes is used to break and manipulate Loki.
Exactly. The fact Mobius is still able to preserve his kindness, after being brainwashed and being forced to live in an environment where nobody around him ever shows kindness towards anybody, is something I truly admire. It shows how pure his heart really is, that not even the Time-Keepers can take that kindness away from him. And you can see it — his kindness — in the way he treated that boy in the cathedral, even drew something for him, in the way he tried to comfort C-20 and other scared civilians at Roxxcart. So he’s not just kind to Loki. He is kind to everybody.
But the funniest thing is that 90% of those people who said those bullshit about Mobius, about how he’s a “bad guy”, see nothing wrong with Loki’s wrongdoings.
Yes, I am aware Loki was brainwashed by Thanos when he attacked earth and killed people in the first Avengers movie, but that still doesn’t excuse other terrible things he’s done, especially in the first Thor movie. Again, I know how Odin mistreated him, and I know Thor was to blame for some of his own behaviors, too, but that… still doesn’t excuse what Loki did. (And I’m saying this as someone who’s been a fan of Loki for years.)
My point is, it’s funny how some (thankfully, it’s just a minority toxic part of the fandom) Loki stans give Loki excuses for his lies and his crimes. But the second Mobius — who was kidnapped and brainwashed into believing he was doing the right thing by working for the TVA, even though he never actually had a choice — is a little mean to their precious Loki, they call him names.
Like… okay, cool, if you (general you) want to give Loki excuses for the reason why he did what he did (how he was mistreated by Odin and sometimes by Thor, even if it’s unintentional, or how Thanos tortured him), then fine. But you can’t call Mobius a ‘bad guy’ for being a little mean to Loki when Mobius was also kidnapped and brainwashed by the TVA.
Both Loki and Mobius were victims, in a way that Loki was a victim of Thanos (and maybe the TVA too), while Mobius was a victim of the TVA.
But Mobius didn’t “abuse” Loki. That is… so wrong to excuse him of that, especially when he’s the only person in the series who loves, actually loves and cares for Loki.
You can see how loyal Mobius was to the TVA, how he had never doubted them before he met his Loki, but in the end he turned against them for Loki.
Whether you (again, general you) like Mobius or not, he is Loki’s best friend, and he and Loki care about each other. Romantic or platonic, they care deeply about each other, there’s no denying that.
#my inbox is open#defending mobius m mobius is the hill i’d gladly die on#loki series#loki#mobius#lokius#tom hiddleston#owen wilson#mcu#marvel#marvel cinematic universe#loki show#loki tv#mobius m. mobius#mcu loki#agent mobius#mobius m mobius#loki laufeyson#loki odinson#twhiddleston#wowki#loki season 2#loki x mobius#mobius x loki#agent mobius m. mobius#agent mobius m mobius
55 notes
·
View notes
Text
Self-Responsibility
1. Take Responsibility to Prioritize Yourself
To take control of your life, you first have to feel worthy of a good life to make better decisions. Some people avoid taking responsibility for their lives because they have self-limiting beliefs. Thus, they may feel as though they don’t deserve better. Remember that it’s okay to be selfish sometimes. You can’t give love and support to others if you aren’t providing it for yourself. Prioritize yourself by practicing self-care and self-love activities. In loving yourself, you improve your confidence and understand that you have the final say in how you want your life to go. Self-love and self-care activities include: a five minute meditation, gardening, journaling, taking a hot bath, pampering yourself, and repeating positive daily affirmations.
2. Stop Playing the Blame Game
Although convenient, it’s a massive form of self-sabotage when we play the blame game. It’s usually relatively easy to point the finger and cast judgment towards others instead of looking at our actions. When we are hyper-focused on other people’s mistakes, we often miss learning many important lessons. People play the blame game for many reasons. You may be defensive when the light is shined on your wrongdoings. This can lead to you avoiding accountability which typically worsens the problem.
3. Make Time for Self Reflection
To take responsibility for your thoughts and actions, you need to become aware. Self-reflection allows you to develop more self-awareness. When you are mindful of your feelings, thoughts, and actions, you understand the patterns and logic behind the things that you do. With this information in mind, you can take stock of negative habits and replace them with good habits instead. To self-reflect, you should write your feelings and thoughts down in a mindfulness journal. As time passes, you can reread your journal entries and gain deeper insight into how you felt at the time, taking note of any patterns you may notice.
4. Take Accountability
Being responsible entails taking accountability. Some people love receiving praise but find difficulty in accepting responsibility when things don’t quite pan out. When you avoid taking blame or admitting that you were wrong, you don’t grow. Pride is a primary reason why some people have trouble taking accountability. However, this is usually to their detriment, leaving them to continue repeating the same mistakes over and over again. When we accept responsibility, we understand our part in a given situation. Much of how we are treated is dependent on how we treat ourselves. Hence, it’s vital to be honest with yourself when you’ve done something wrong instead of avoiding transparency and making excuses. Of course, you do not want to engage in self-pity or feelings of guilt. However, in being accountable, you can a more proactive approach by correcting poor behavior and making better decisions.
5. Don’t Internalize Judgment
Everyone has an opinion on something. However, you shouldn’t internalize other people’s judgments towards you. We are all unique in our way, having our perspectives on success and happiness. Though many of our loved ones have good intentions, it’s not rare for them to project their wishes onto us. For example, some parents may want their child to select a specific major, occupation, or even partner. You can’t live your life to appease someone else. You are responsible for living your own life.
Instead of internalizing judgments and opinions, make an extra effort to get to know yourself better. What do happiness and success look like to you? What are your standards when looking for a romantic partner? When we live true to ourselves, we live happier and more fulfilled lives. So, this will require you to be completely honest with yourself. You may even need to take some time away from people who constantly impose their views on you as this can create internal conflict, rendering decision-making a considerable challenge.
6. Practice Compassion Towards Yourself
Taking responsibility can be difficult because you understand that you control the direction you want your life to go. Upon coming to this realization, one can be a bit hard on themselves. Many of us are indeed our worst critics. When we judge ourselves harshly, we throw off our inner equilibrium. We feel ungrounded, unsupported, unsustainable, and very discouraged. As this persists, an individual can feel hopeless and even depressed—practice self-compassion. Instead reinforce positive self-talk, find humor in the situation. Don’t feel guilt and resentment, feel gratitude for learning the lesson. Instead of feeling as though you’ve wasted your time, find the wisdom in all that you’ve discovered about yourself. A mere shift in perspective is a potent action to take when you take responsibility for your life.
7. Be Mindful of Excuses
A common trait of irresponsible people is that they make or find an array of excuses. An irresponsible person who wants to eat healthier may say that they can’t because they don’t have time. However, if they are to be responsible, accountable, and honest, they would be able to sit down and figure out a way to make time. We can find many reasons not to make life changes. However, to allow these reasons to influence you not to make any change is when that reason becomes an excuse. And, at that moment, you’ve just given your power away. We all have the same 24 hours each day. How we choose to spend it is what we are all responsible for. And, this will show in the quality of life we have. So, stop making excuses for yourself.
8. Take Responsibility to Remove Toxic People
When it comes to making excuses, you may have others doing this for you. These people may want to spare you from your harsh judgment. However, this can be enabling you to continue unhealthy habits and toxic behavior. People who genuinely care for you and love you will hold you accountable because they want to see you achieve your dreams. Whereas, some individuals may want to keep you from reaching your goals as to keep you codependent on them. In such cases, these are not true friends.
To take responsibility for your life, you must also take responsibility for the people you keep in your life. People who frequently complain, self-loathe, self-deprecate, and speak down on your progress aren’t beneficial for your growth. They can stunt your progress. Make sure to keep healthy and supportive relationships. Also, you should seek to establish emotional independence to make better decisions from an objective stance and attract authentic people into your life
9. Eradicate Negative Self-Talk
To take responsibility, eradicate negative self-talk. Negative self-talk can come from childhood trauma inflicted by abuse within the household or bullying at school. These negative, self-limiting beliefs we have of ourselves usually originate from the projections and judgments other people throw at us. When we are younger, we tend to internalize these words, and they become ingrained in our minds. It takes time to un-condition such negative ideas about Self. However, it’s possible by doing activities aimed at self-love and self-care.
We come into this world with a very clean slate. As we grow, we begin to take on our personality. Much of this has to do with the environment we are socialized in. However, you do not have to be a product of your environment. You can take responsibility for your life and reclaim your full potential by utilizing the approaches mentioned above.
#self responsibility#self awareness#self improvement#self healing#self change#self control#self reflection#self help#self worth#life#self care#self growth#take control#life choices#life changing habits#things can change#be the change#motivateyourself#mindpower#mind over matter#i choose me#i choose to be happy#i choose peace#my life#i will do it#self respect#self development#self love#personal growth
25 notes
·
View notes
Text
I’m back with another rant because I fucking hate this world!
The Kamila verdict timing is genuinely insane. They’re just all insane. It makes me think they timed it then because they know they’ve been cleared and now they can have their whole repulsive propaganda, fake ass “in your face” moment and the possibility of that makes me sick. (I admit I don’t know that much about the entire world of figure skating so I don’t know what actually went into the timing decision. I hope it was just how it panned out but that’d be too easy right?)
I’ve said it ever since the Olympics but I’ll say it again, I have never seen such a disgusting, public, shameless display of abuse on a teenage girl in my life. They’re waving her around like a political pawn, a russian hero and a symbol of “russian strength” but there is no strength, no honor, no glory in abusing a child. All that the world has seen from their organization is weakness and malice. They have no shame, no conscience and at the center of it is a girl who just wanted to skate. Now, she’s been brainwashed and abused and will never just be able to skate as an individual human being. They make their students machines, robots & hide them from the truth for their selfish gain. They are a disgrace.
It’s hard for me to decide whether I think Kamila herself should be banned. On one hand, the wrong was done, end of story and she needs to learn that you get punished for doing wrong or being a part of wrongdoings. That you need to be conscientious of the world (people) around you and most importantly, she needs to learn that the adults in her life wronged her. Not the media, not the “evil west”, it was her coaches, her state run media, probably even her parents. But even at this I think a ban on her should be short. On the other hand though, she was 15, raised in the four walls of a skating rink with 3 coaches telling her lies, controlling her, abusing her, brainwashing her. What else are you gonna know if all you’ve ever known is the fake little world that’s been built within Sambo70′s walls. This distorted reality they create to keep their students needing them. And at the end of the day, even though I do think 15 year old’s in normal settings have a sense of right and wrong, 15 is still too young to be blamed for this, 15 is still impressionable and 15 is still an age where you’re going to be influenced, especially by the adults in your life who are like parental figures for you. Whether she knew about it and was okay with taking the drugs is irrelevant considering her age, at the center of this are adults who should’ve never let it happen in the first place and they are the only ones to blame.
I’m very nervous for this verdict because as we’ve seen time and time again, in and out of sports, in every country on this planet, justice is rarely, if ever served. Especially when it comes to women and girls and I’m sick of it. If they all get away with this it’s not only another blow to justice but a win for an abusive regime that will take their ego to an even higher, more disturbing place that I just can’t stomach. It’s just so morally wrong and I genuinely think, if Eteri, Daniil, rusfed etc. get away with this, it will be the end of figure skating as we know it. They will never gain the rest of the world’s respect back no matter the verdict, but at least if they are found guilty, fans of the sport could trust that the powers that be will not stand for abusers. If they let them get away with this, the sport falls and I hope there is an uproar from skaters/coaches from other countries.
Overall, my anger is not and has never been with Kamila. She is the victim here. & despite all my anger, there is a bigger sadness watching this unfold, not only for her but for every one of those girls. The reason so many of us are passionate about this case is because probably 90% of us have experienced our own personal versions of injustice and therefore, when we see it, it hits home. I feel pretty indifferent towards Kamila getting banned just as long as her coaches and the entire Tutberidze team/Sambo70 Skating Club get banned for life and goes down in complete, humiliating disgrace.
#I can't respond to any chat messages since this is a sideblog but I do read them!#figure skating#russian figure skating#kamila valieva#eteri tutberidze#team tutberidze#sambo 70#anna shcherbakova#alina zagitova#beijing 2022#Olympics#Russian doping
32 notes
·
View notes
Note
may i add to the discussion? i do wonder if it's fair to refer to sora's choice to put his memories back the way they were as cowardice (as i read from someone's tags) riku made poor choices in his past and had the willpower to try to fix his wrongdoings; sora's predicament was not at all caused by his own doings. he was manipulated by a force he had no knowledge of until the end. why would casting aside his true memories to be put back the way he was a bad thing?
It really comes down to interpretation. I don’t think CoM by itself overtly frames Sora’s choice as good or bad. If you don’t pick up on the arguable subtext that Sora is reliving his trauma from KH1, then Sora choosing to lose his memories of Castle Oblivion to regain his old ones in the end probably feels fine. Though you’re kind of left wondering, what’s the point? What’s the point of this journey if Sora doesn’t remember it, learns nothing from it, gains nothing from it?
Coded arguably re-contextualizes CoM when it comes out and says, hey, Castle Oblivion is about dealing with emotional pain! It’s not a coincidence that Data Sora goes through a similar journey and faces the same predicament that Sora does in CoM: “Are you okay with letting go of the folks that you’ve forgotten?” It’s not a coincidence that Data Sora accepts this pain and learns something from it, unlike Sora in CoM.
Now, if you’re saying what happens to Sora in CoM isn’t his fault so he shouldn’t have to live with his pain like Riku does… my friend, that’s what trauma is. It’s something bad that happens to you, that changes you, that you have to deal with, regardless of who’s to blame. It’s often outside of your control, and it’s unfair.
Continuing to read CoM as Sora processing his KH1 trauma, I have to acknowledge that Sora chooses to stab himself just as he chooses to venture through Castle Oblivion knowing the stakes — he knows his heart will fall to darkness just as he knows he will lose his memories the more illusions he meets. Each time he risks self-destruction, it’s for a good reason, to save a friend, but that doesn’t mean it doesn’t hurt him, that it’s not a bad experience he has to deal with the repercussions of.
And there are repercussions for KH1. Roxas. Anti-form. Rage form. You don’t die and come back the same just like you don’t go through trauma and come out the same, which is why coming back to life in fiction is often used as an allegory for living through a traumatic experience.
Coded shows us that when we experience tragedy, loss, trauma, we control how we respond to it… whether we let that pain drag us down into the darkness, take it out on others, or use it to become wiser, kinder — to others or, most relevant for Sora, to ourselves. We determine how our pain affects us and what, if anything, we learn from it.
So, the problem’s not Sora wanting his old memories back so much as Sora choosing to not process or learn anything from CoM because he forgets/represses his memories of Castle Oblivion. It’s the fact that the end of CoM, for Sora and Riku, is presented as a decision to go backwards (try to be who they were before) or forwards (accept the new person they are, for better or worse).
And who can blame Sora, right? I think I would’ve made the same choice in his position. I think most people would have. If you have the chance to forget all that pain and be your old self again, why wouldn’t you? Except… you can’t erase memories. Locking them up is a temporary fix — even if they’re not easy to recall, they’re still inside you, shaping you, so you’re never going to be your old self again. There’s no “old self” to get back to, and you have to accept that. Sora has to accept that.
There’s no way to go backwards… unless, you know, you break the laws of nature and get kicked out of your reality. But even then, it doesn’t erase what happened before and how that changed you. Those memories are still inside you, affecting who you are, no matter how deep you push them down. They’re still determining the trajectory of your life; they’re the reason you wake up a year later in a strange place unable to remember how you got there. You’re not really “back,” and you’re never going to be… To change and grow is to be alive. The only time you stop is when you die… I digress.
CoM also tells us that none of the memories Namine tampers with are gone, an idea reaffirmed by Coded, with Data Sora confident that he will remember all the people he forgot one day, even without a magic fix… So it’s likely that the restoration pod is not Sora’s only option for getting his old memories back in CoM, that Sora could’ve retained his new memories of Castle Oblivion and remembered his old memories eventually, over time.
It would’ve been a pretty different story if Sora had opted out of the restoration pod, huh? Especially since Riku — the whole reason Sora entered Castle Oblivion in the first place — is right behind him. By reuniting with Riku, Sora would’ve accomplished his goal in the end, and they could’ve helped each other with their pain. Sora would’ve actually gained something from CoM, learned something. Grown.
But that’s in hindsight. Like I said, CoM doesn’t really paint Sora’s choice as good or bad in the moment. It’s not until you’re looking back 5, 6 games later that you realize maybe Sora made a poor choice. Maybe Sora repressing his memories of Castle Oblivion did more harm than good for him in the long-run, and maybe this is a reoccurring issue with him. And that’s okay! Sora’s allowed to have flaws and things that scare him. He’s a better character for it.
#hope this makes sense I’m typing with one eye rn#kingdom hearts#sora#tldr it’s up to interpretation but coded makes a strong case for why you can see the end of com as sora avoiding his trauma#as always there’s a chance I’m wrong bc this is all interpretation#but i like a sora who’s imperfect and scared of some things with room to grow#and i think his problem is sympathetic and relatable for many people
51 notes
·
View notes
Text
“Another Mystery Solved, Motherfuckers!”
Alternatively titled “The stupidest thing Coco has ever written”/”I am at the bottom of a hole and have picked up a shovel”/”The Derry Girls/Scooby-Doo: Mystery Incorporated AU literally none of yous fuckin asked for”. This can partially be blamed on @hanaasbananas for recommending that cracker Buffy the Vampire Slayer AU to me.
“Another mystery solved, motherfuckers!” Michelle shouted gleefully.
“Way to go, guys!” Clare beamed, high-fiving Erin and James as Orla did a victory dance that seemed to be some form of interpretive step aerobics. “Let’s celebrate!”
“Movie night at ours?” Erin suggested with an excited grin.
“Cracker idea!” Orla agreed. The five took an eager step towards the door, but unfortunately found their way blocked by an irate Sister Michael.
“Better idea,” the headmistress said sternly.
“Ach, Sister -” Michelle started, but shut her mouth at the sight of Sister Michael’s steely raised eyebrow.
“Now, correct me if I’m wrong, girls, but I’m almost entirely certain I added a new school rule forbidding you from solving any mysteries or mystery-adjacent incidents - up to and including supernatural hoaxes and the like - on school grounds after the fifth time Miss McCool rigged up a massive and destructive booby trap in a private office.”
“Technically, Sister, it was a counterweight-based drop-net,” Erin pointed out in an admittedly poor attempt at a legal defense. “And we did catch the fellas who were dressing up as a two-faced ghost to try an’ steal those new computers out of the IT room.”
“That may be the case, Miss Quinn, but you are not the one who had to endure a very tedious phone call in order to explain to the school board why we had to make a cut to the newsletter’s budget to replace the desk Miss McCool smashed with her drop-net’s counterweight,” Sister Michael said coolly. “Would the five of you please go and wait outside my office now? I’ve called all of your parents - whom, by now, I have on speed-dial.”
With a collective sigh, Erin, Orla, Clare, Michelle and James left the classroom (that admittedly was rather the worse for wear from Orla’s most recent booby trap, one desk missing altogether owing to being… attached (Erin didn’t ask how for the sake of her own sanity; Orla’s creativity ranged from brilliantly simple to outright disturbing on any given day) to the grumbling thief in a werewolf costume who had been led out in handcuffs by the police a few minutes ago) and trudged towards the headmistress’s office, her voice echoing behind them.
“Oh, and Mr Maguire, while you were busy chasing the thieving werewolf, I was informed by your Aunt Dierdre that your mother returned to Derry this afternoon. I can’t imagine she’ll be massively pleased that her reunion with you will have to take place in my office.”
James groaned. He wasn’t on the best of terms with his mother as it was, given that she’d left him in Derry eight months ago and only occasionally popped back over from London to see him; this was the cherry on top of a shite sundae.
“Well, this is just fucking brilliant,” Michelle huffed, flinging herself down on the familiar bench designated for students waiting to see Sister Michael about any perceived wrongdoing.
“My Ma’s going to kill me,” Clare whimpered. “No, worse than that, she’s going to kill me, bury me, dig me up, and kill me again! I promised I wouldn’t get in any more trouble this month!”
“Ye know, just the once it would be nice if someone actually thanked us for solving a mystery,” Erin grumbled.
“Good thing we’re not in this to be liked,” James sighed, and promptly found himself on the receiving end of four disbelieving glares. “That didn’t come out quite right,” he mumbled sheepishly.
#derry girls fic#derry girls x mystery incorporated#derry girls#erin quinn#orla mccool#clare devlin#michelle mallon#james maguire#sister michael#sister george michael#coco writes#another mystery solved motherfuckers!
26 notes
·
View notes
Last Seen Blogs
storywonders
Story wonders
doramascoreanos
Doramas Coreanos
khongonnhatrang-blog
Khô ngon Nha Trang
norazingrid
Most sane testmic enthusiast
norazingrid
Most sane testmic enthusiast